


A Dream and a Dance

by thewulf (Aloha4Ever)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jane Austen, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Sense and Sensibility, Captain Swan - Freeform, Captain Swan Big Bang, F/M, Gen, Regency, Sisterly Love, Snowing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-07-18 06:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 74,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16112765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloha4Ever/pseuds/thewulf
Summary: Set in England in the early 1800s, this story is inspired by Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. Emma and Mary Margaret Blanchard are the lovely and beloved daughters of Leopold and Eva Blanchard. When unexpected tragedy strikes, orphaning them, the young sisters find themselves dependent on their half brother, Robin, and reluctant hostess of a sister-in-law, Regina. A burgeoning romance between Mary Margaret and Regina’s stepbrother, David Spencer, is interrupted when the sisters decide to take up the offer of a distant cousin, Ingrid White, to make their home with her. There, the sisters meet a host of new acquaintances including the enigmatic landowner Captain Killian Jones and young charmer Neal Cassidy. The sisters hope to find their Happy Endings while navigating polite society on the fringes of genteel poverty. Warnings: Mentions of teen pregnancy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank my betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt enough for all the time and effort they put into the fic. They helped make the story fifty times better than it was. Huge shout-out to @onceuponawesteros for the hours we spent bouncing ideas on chat when I first planned out this fic more than two years ago. Thank you, @mearcats for digitally holding my hand whenever I felt discouraged about completing the story! @captainswanandclintasha created the lovely banner and a number of gorgeous pic-sets and art for the story. Thank you for your patience through all the edits I made to the fic! Last but not least, a big shout-out to the Big Bang mods who have done an excellent job organizing and running this event and to the Discord chat crew for all the writing sprints and writing help. 
> 
> Fair warning: This fic is not very flattering to Regina or Neal.

It was a pleasant English July afternoon. Not a cloud was in sight. A gentle breeze ruffled the leaves on green trees and caused delicate ripples to form on the surface of the ornamental pond at Locksley, the family estate of the Blanchard family. The young people staying at the house were taking full advantage of the mild weather and were out of doors. Emma Blanchard, one of the aforementioned young inhabitants, was reading a novel seated in the shade of an elm tree, lazily scratching the ear of a terrier that was resting beside her. As she turned a page, she covertly observed her sister, Mary Margaret, and her companion, David Spencer, who were shooting arrows at a target a little further away on the lawn.

_Thwack!_

The arrow flew straight and true, hitting the bullseye.

“Well done, Miss Blanchard!” said David, throwing Mary Margaret an appreciative look.

A tiny smile of amusement bubbled up on Emma’s face on seeing the obvious admiration on David’s countenance. The sparkling eyes that accompanied Mary Margaret’s answering smile caused Emma to temporarily forget the discomfiture of her and her sister’s present living situation.

Emma and Mary Margaret Blanchard were the children of the late Leopold Blanchard by his second marriage to the beautiful and good-humored Eva White. The Blanchard girls had pretty features, lovely green eyes, pleasing figures, and smiling countenances that had seldom been dimmed in sorrow until lately. The sisters looked so much alike that people who didn’t know them well might have been hard put to tell them apart, but for the fact that Mary Margaret had dark hair while Emma had blonde tresses. In addition to their pleasing appearance, the sisters had inherited their mother’s kindness and their father’s generosity of spirit—perhaps a more valuable legacy than beauty or material possessions.

The elder Blanchards died tragically in a freak accident in April of 1815, leaving the sisters orphaned and dependent on the goodwill of their half brother, Robin Blanchard, and his wife, Regina Blanchard née Mills. Robin was Leopold’s son by his first marriage. He and Regina had two children—a boy of four named Roland and a baby girl, little Margot, who was not yet a year old. The Blanchard estate, Locksley, was entailed to male heirs and therefore passed to Robin in full. There was a provision of three thousand pounds for Emma and Mary Margaret through their mother’s marriage settlement, supplemented by another three thousand pounds derived from unentailed assets of the Locksley holdings. Invested in five percent government bonds, it would yield a meager hundred and fifty pounds per annum apiece, an income that neither provided independence nor invited suitors. Not that the Blanchard sisters had given much thought to marriage until recently. Mary Margaret was but twenty-two years of age and Emma twenty. While they were as fond of dancing and music as any other young person of their age, with loving parents and a happy home, they had not met anyone in their sphere of acquaintance to induce serious thoughts on matrimony and tempt them into leaving the parental nest.

The new Mrs. Blanchard established herself as mistress of Locksley within a week of her in-laws’ passing. Another fortnight had been enough to show Emma and Mary Margaret where their place lay under the new management. Their sister-in-law had not been overtly rude or discourteous, but, by subtle snubs and hints, had managed to convey to her sisters-in-law how superfluous she considered their presence in the family circle. And, with the excuse of modernizing the furnishings of Locksley, the sisters were moved from their bedrooms into smaller ones in a different wing of the house.

It was unclear to what extent Robin perceived his wife’s dislike of his half sisters. He had been ten when Mary Margaret was born, and started his schooling at Eton two years later when Emma entered the world. From Eton, he had gone on to Cambridge, only coming home for the holidays. After his wedding, he and Regina had settled in London. Therefore, while Mary Margaret and Emma were devoted to each other, there had not been much opportunity for more than a superficial bond to develop between the half-siblings.

Why Regina felt the need to establish her superiority over her young sisters-in-law was perhaps rooted in the loyalty the servants displayed towards Mary Margaret and Emma over herself. The butler at Locksley was a stately old man who had been with the family since the days of Leopold Blanchard’s bachelor days. The housekeeper had been upper housemaid in Eva White’s family and had taken up the role of housekeeper at Locksley on Eva’s marriage to Leopold. Regina grew sick of the butler’s _“But ma’am, that has never been the custom at Locksley,”_ or the housekeeper’s _“I’ll mention the matter to Miss Blanchard, ma’am. She’ll know what had best be done,”_ whenever she issued an order that contradicted some established household routine or arrangement. It had taken Robin’s intervention and the threat of dismissal to finally get the servants to obey her instructions without question. Regina did not derive any comfort from the fact that Mary Margaret had never superseded her authority and gently charged the domestic staff to listen to their new mistress. From then on, one thing had built on another, and the offenses had piled on.

Not the least of Regina’s private grievances against her sisters-in-law had been the discovery that they were reputed beauties in the neighborhood. Regina was by no means unhandsome. Her natural dark beauty was enhanced by the skill of her dresser (no mere lady’s maid would do for her); her garments were bespoke and stitched of the finest cloth procured from the best warehouses in London. After all the effort and cost expended on her toilette and ensemble, it was perhaps natural for her to feel resentful of the easy admiration accorded to her sisters-in-law, whose manners and outfits were not of the fashionable world.

With the arrival of Regina’s stepbrother, David Spencer, on a visit to Locksley in May, the subtle antagonism very nearly turned into outright hostility. For, after a couple of months of riding out together and sitting about in handy park-benches strewn about the grounds of Locksley, it appeared that David had become quite enamoured of Mary Margaret. It particularly confounded Regina that Mary Margaret had entrapped her brother while dressed in black bombazine and crepe, especially as the cut and quality of her sisters-in-law’s mourning outfits were decidedly inferior to her own. She tightened her lips as the sound of laughter drifted in through the open French windows.

Regina had been sitting in the summer parlor for the past two hours, with just her children and their nursemaids for company. Her husband had left on estate business early that morning and had not yet returned, while her sisters-in-law and David had been out of doors. Regina cast a sour look at Mary Margaret as the latter entered the parlor through the French window, David and Emma in tow.

On seeing his uncle, little Roland ran up to him and thrust a book in his hand. “Uncle David! It’s stowy-time,” he said, jumping up and down in excitement.

David grinned and ruffled Roland’s hair. “That’s right, Ro. It’s story-time now,” he said, taking the book from his nephew and sitting down on a sofa.

On his arrival at Locksley, David had presented his nephew with Perrault's _Stories or Tales from Times Past_. It had become the custom for him to read aloud to Roland from the book every afternoon before dinner. Roland dragged Mary Margaret, who was another favorite with him, to sit in the sofa next to David, and snuggled down in her lap, preparing to listen to his uncle. Emma sat down beside Regina in a sofa across from them. She took her baby niece into her lap, crooning at her softly.

“Are you ready to hear the tale of,” said David, flipping through the book to select a story he hadn’t read to Roland before, “‘The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood’?”

“Yeah!” said Roland, with an excited sequel.

David grinned and began his narration. He had excellent diction. His clear manner and animated delivery brought the tale to life and ensured a captive audience in the room. Soon, he got to the part of the story where the prince came upon the slumbering princess.

“‘At last he came into a chamber all gilded with gold, where he saw, upon a bed, the curtains of which were all open, the finest sight ever beheld:’” read David, and flung out his hand dramatically, “‘a Princess, whose bright and resplendent beauty had somewhat in it divine. He approached with trembling and admiration, and fell down before her upon his knees.’”

Roland leaned forward, mouth open.

“‘And now, as the enchantment was at an end, the Princess awaked, and looking on him with eyes more tender than the first view might seem to admit of: "Is it you, my Prince," said she to him, "you have tarried long."

The Prince, charmed with these words, and much more with the manner in which they were spoken, knew not how to shew his joy and gratitude; he assured her, that he loved her better than he did himself…’”

Roland gave a little contented sigh, and leant back against his aunt’s chest. David stopped reading. His eyes connected with Mary Margaret’s over little Roland’s head. Emma caught a look of stunned tenderness in them. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling as though she was intruding on a private moment. Her eyes automatically fell on Regina, who flushed red with suppressed fury. Emma’s lips twitched.

The spell broke when baby Margot woke from her decidedly _un_ -enchanted slumber and set off a piercing wail.

After dinner that evening, the women withdrew to the drawing room, leaving the men to their port wine and discussions of Napoleon’s surrender. Coffee was set out, and the children fetched from their nurseries. Mary Margaret and Emma busied themselves with their work baskets.

Regina began, “I had a letter from my mother today. She and my brother Walsh have arrived at Bath. I’m thinking of urging David to join them.”

Emma looked up from her work sharply.

Mary Margaret paused mid-way while threading a needle. “Isn’t that rather earlier than expected?” she faltered.

“The Midases are to be in town soon, and my mother and I are wild for David to meet their daughter. Have I told you about Sir Alexander’s eldest daughter, Miss Abigail, my dear?” continued Regina, particularly addressing Mary Margaret. “She is such a delightful creature, and the heiress of thirty-thousand pounds.”

“Oh?” said Mary Margaret, warily.

“Robin and I would be loathe to lose his company, of course. But when it comes to my brother’s happiness, I would make any number of sacrifices.”

“Would you, indeed?” said Emma, looking nettled.

Regina turned to Emma. “Of course I would. You see, my mother and I—we’re anxious to secure my brother’s future. My mother is very generous and intends to settle a large sum of money on the occasion of his marriage, more than what was settled on me, I own, but as he is the eldest son of the family….” She shrugged. “However, she is not the kind to throw away a fortune on unsuitable alliances.”

Mary Margaret bent her head to her work to hide her distress.

Emma said, “You would trust your brother’s judgment, surely, as to what is considered suitable.”

“My brother’s friendly disposition causes him to be universally trusting to his detriment at times.” Regina glanced at Mary Margaret with a sneer. “I would never forgive myself if he were to be entrapped into an unfortunate entanglement while he was staying with us.”

“My dear sister,” said Emma, with rising anger. “Won’t it be better to speak plainly, and tell us exactly what you think?”

“I think I have made myself plain enough for some people’s understanding,” Regina retorted.

“You have,” said Mary Margaret, a dull flush suffusing her neck, “nothing to fear in that regard, Regina.”

“Good.”

Emma was about to burst out with an angry retort, when Robin and David entered the room, stopping her short.

Roland immediately ran up to his papa, who promptly lifted him high in the air, much to the little boy’s delight. David made his way to where Mary Margaret was at work and sat down by her.

Mary Margaret tensed slightly. She struggled to remain calm and maintain normal conversation. Regina kept directing meaningful looks at the pair throughout the rest of the evening, until both Emma and Mary Margaret had had enough and excused themselves to retire to bed early. The sisters parted outside their bed-chambers, Emma promising to join Mary Margaret shortly.

Emma hastily got out of her evening dress and washed her face. After putting on a comfortable nightgown, she went and knocked at the door of her sister’s room.

Mary Margaret's faint “Come in!” filtered through, and Emma stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

Mary Margaret was sitting in front of the dressing table, brushing her hair.

“Insufferable woman!” exclaimed Emma, dramatically flopping down on her sister’s bed. “I might have stabbed her with my needle if she’d said one more word about you entrapping David.”

“But do you think it’s true, Emma?” Mary Margaret asked anxiously, setting down the hair-brush and turning to look at her sister.

“That you entrapped David? Are you out of your senses?” Emma stared at her sister incredulously.

“No, of course not,” replied Mary Margaret. “But…we are practically penniless, and David’s family clearly wants him to make an advantageous marriage.”

“But David doesn’t want that. Surely you don’t think him mercenary, Mary Margaret?”

“I don’t think David is mercenary. But it may be that I have imagined the extent of his regard for me to be more than what it is. If that is so, I have no right to influence him into something that may be detrimental to his interest…”

“Nonsense! The man is madly in love with you. Even Regina can see that!”

Mary Margaret blushed. “I don’t know if love is the word I’d use.”

“Pray tell me what word you would use, then?” teased Emma.

“Respect. Affection. Perhaps, admiration…”

Emma threw her hands up in the air. “ _Respect? Affection?_ Could you find any words more banal?”

Mary Margaret laughed. “Perhaps I do not wish to unreasonably inflate my expectations.”

“Ah, yes,” nodded Emma sagely. “A Lady never lets herself feel anything for a man until he declares himself. And when he does, the object of his affection is so overwhelmed with gratitude that she immediately falls passionately in love with him, forswearing all others for the rest of her life.”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret threw the hair-brush at her sister, who easily ducked to avoid it. They laughed. Mary Margaret tied her hair into a knot and came and sat down beside her sister, hugging a pillow to her chest. “I do like him, very much, indeed,” she admitted, blushing gently. “And I think…I hope…that he feels the same.”

Mary Margaret was naturally more diffident than her sister, and it had taken her some time to feel a measure of hope that her feelings for David were reciprocated. She was only surprised at how long it had taken Regina to warn her away from her stepbrother. Her expression sobering, Mary Margaret added, “Do you think Regina really means to send David away from Locksley? I’m certain he was intending to stay on until August for the shooting season.”

“Regina may urge David to go to Bath,” Emma laid a hand over her sister’s, “but wild horses won’t be able to drag David away from Locksley at this point.”

“Perhaps. But I don’t want to be seen as the kind of woman who selfishly pursues a man despite any disadvantages he may accrue.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Only a person with no sense like Regina would think you are ‘pursuing’ David, or that it will disadvantage him in any way.”

“In any case, Regina doesn’t want David and I to be housed under the same roof,” said Mary Margaret with a shrug. “I’m sure she’d prefer it if she could send me away instead of her brother. But as she cannot, she will make sure that her brother leaves sooner than later.”

“I wish we _could_ leave Locksley and go live elsewhere,” said Emma, kicking out her legs petulantly.

“Where would we go, Emma?” Mary Margaret asked in a tone that indicated that they had had this discussion before. “You know very well that we cannot set up our own establishment.”

“Don’t we have any poor relations who would be happy to live with us and chaperone us around to dinners and balls?” asked Emma, half-joking. “Some doddering old cousin or great-aunt?”

“Emma— _we_ are the poor relations now.”

“Goodness! So we are!” Emma laughed, and her sister joined in. Young, lively, and good-humored, the sisters were not so despondent as to fail to see humor in their situation and laugh at themselves on occasion.

“We could become governesses!” said Emma.

“And be separated?” 

“School teachers, then.”

“Emma…” said Mary Margaret, laying a gentle hand on her sister’s arm.

“I know…” said Emma, and her shoulders slumped. “These are nonsensical thoughts anyway. Nobody would want me teaching their children to draw or paint.”

“Or me to teach them to play the piano,” Mary Margaret chimed in with a half-smile.

“And neither of us can speak a word of Italian to save our lives!” said Emma. They laughed again.

Her expression turning serious once more, Emma added, “That blessed entail has us living as unwelcome guests in our own home!”

“You know Papa was very much in favor of breaking the entail. Robin was agreeable until he got married,” said Mary Margaret. “Regina may have convinced him that it would be unfair to their children.”

Emma snorted. “He probably didn’t need much convincing.”

“We can hardly blame them for putting their own family first, I suppose,” said Mary Margaret.

The Locksley estate yielded an annual income of about four thousand pounds, additionally supplemented with the interest from Regina’s dowry. But any loss of capital to provide a larger portion to the daughters might be considered by some as infringing on the rights of a growing family.

“I can,” grumbled Emma under her breath. She was prone to holding people to rigid standards of conduct, while Mary Margaret tended to make allowances for the effect of time and circumstance.

“Mary Margaret,” said Emma hesitantly, “if Robin had been our own brother, do you think he would have cared more about breaking the entail?”

“I don’t know. Mama was always kind to Robin, and he too seemed fond of her. But, perhaps he resented Papa getting married again.”

“It wasn’t as though he remarried quickly after Robin’s mother died,” said Emma.

Mary Margaret sighed. “We shall never know.”

“I miss them so much, you know? Papa and Mama.”

“I miss them too,” said Mary Margaret, and suddenly burst into tears.

Emma quickly embraced her sister. She, too, was crying now. The sisters held on tight as they comforted each other.

***

The next day brought forth an unexpected development. After breakfast, Emma went down to the drawing room to practice on her pianoforte as usual, only to find it missing. Worried and confused, she rang for the butler, who regretfully informed her that the instrument had been moved to the second-best parlor on Mrs. Blanchard’s orders.

Fuming, Emma barged into the morning room where Regina was sitting, demanding to know why her pianoforte had been moved without her say so.

Regina’s lip curled. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? My mother has commissioned a new grand piano for me from Broadwood—a housewarming present. That will be a much more suitable instrument for the drawing room, don’t you think?”

Emma’s eyes flashed. “If my instrument _had_ to be moved to make way for your amazing new piano, I ought to have been there to make sure the servants did not damage it.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “I’m sure your harpsichord wasn’t scratched in the long journey from the drawing room to the parlor.”

“It’s not a harpsichord. It’s a pianoforte, and it belonged to my mother,” said Emma, breathing hard.

“Perhaps. But I’m the mistress of Locksley now, and I don’t need to get _your_ permission to move the furniture around,” Regina retorted. “Now, run along dear. I’m busy.”

Mary Margaret found Emma an hour later crying as though her heart would break, her head resting on the pianoforte. She rushed over to her sister and embraced her as the latter sobbed out the tale. Once Emma had calmed down, Mary Margaret extracted a letter from her pocket and unfolded it.

“This,” said Mary Margaret, brandishing the letter at Emma, “is from our cousin, Ingrid. It arrived by post this morning, and I came to discuss it with you. Considering everything, I must say it’s rather well-timed.”

Emma raised a brow in silent question.

“Ingrid sends her condolences, and in addition, has made us a surprising offer,” said Mary Margaret.

“What offer?”

“She has kindly extended an invitation for us to live with her at her cottage in Devonshire.”

Ingrid White, one of three sisters, was a cousin of their mother’s. Ingrid and her sister Helga had remained unmarried and had lived together, while the third sister, Gerda, had married a wealthy baronet and had two children. Eva kept up an intermittent correspondence with her cousins over the years, with occasional visits and presents during Christmas.

“What?” Emma asked incredulously. “That is so strange! We haven’t seen her in years! Why, I hardly even remember how she looks.”

“We were both children when she and cousin Helga came on a visit,” said Mary Margaret. “I don’t remember her very well either.”

“Didn’t poor Helga die last year?” asked Emma, wrinkling her forehead.

“Yes, and that is part of the reason for Cousin Ingrid’s kind invitation. Here, let me read this section of her letter out to you: ‘Ever since I received notice of your beloved parents’ demise, I have been revolving a plan that might work out to the benefit of all of us. In consequence, I am writing to invite you and Emma to make your home with me. I have been very lonely ever since Helga died.’ She and cousin Gerda haven’t gotten along well, you know—

“‘I would be very happy to have you bright, young people stay with me permanently—or rather,’” and there was blush in Mary Margaret’s cheeks as she read this part, “‘until one or both of you are carried away by your very own Prince Charmings.’”

Emma giggled.

Mary Margaret glared at her before proceeding. “‘There is sufficient room at Arendell Cottage for the both of you to stay in comfort and security, although I must warn you that I live in a small neighborhood, and the tenor of my social life is rather subdued. Misthaven village is quite a distance away from what has been your home since childhood, but perhaps that may be a point in favor of a move.’”

Mary Margaret paused to take a breath.

“Rather insightful of her,” commented Emma. “Pray, read on.”

“‘I would urge you and Emma, at the very least, to consider coming over on an extended visit before you make any final decision.’ She finishes the letter with the usual compliments.” Mary Margaret set the letter down on top of the pianoforte and turned to her sister.

“I must say that is a very kind offer,” began Emma hesitantly, “but will it be any better to go from being dependent on the goodwill and charity of one set of people to being dependent on the goodwill and charity of someone else?”

“It won’t be charity, Emma,” said her sister, laying a hand on Emma’s. “We will make sure that our cousin accepts monetary contribution to the running of the household. Besides, she does state that she is lonely…”

“We’d be leaving our home,” said Emma, a catch in her voice.

“This hasn’t really been our home since Papa and Mama died,” said Mary Margaret, with a sad shake of her head.

Emma bit her lip. “Perhaps we should wait a few weeks before we make a decision.”

“Staying on here and bearing Regina’s snubs and insinuations every day is more than either of us can bear at this point,” said Mary Margaret, gesturing at the pianoforte to emphasize her point. “You’ve always been the one wanting to leave Locksley. Why are you arguing against it now that we actually have a viable alternative to staying on?”

“I don’t want to take you away from David.”

“Oh, Emma,” said Mary Margaret, and pressed her sister’s hand affectionately. “David will most likely be forced to shorten his visit to Locksley, anyway. Besides, it’s not as if David…won’t be able to visit us in Devonshire. The familial connection will not make it improper for him to do so.”

A slow smile dawned on Emma’s face. She said, “That is an excellent point. After all, every fairy tale begins with Prince Charming riding on a horse to find his enchanted princess.”

“Emma!” exclaimed Mary Margaret, blushing furiously and smiling despite herself.

***

In consequence of the sisters’ resolution to quit Locksley and move to Devonshire, Mary Margaret dispatched a letter to Ingrid thanking her for her kindness and accepting her offer. When Regina entered the room a short while later, it was to receive the exceedingly satisfactory news that she would shortly be rid of her grasping sisters-in-law for good. The news of their departure was met with a show of concern by their brother. He said something to the effect of being very sorry to see his sisters leave, and how disappointed he was that they were to move such a distance from Locksley, but did nothing to persuade them to stay on. All professions of true regret belonged to David, who heard the news after dinner that evening.

He turned a stunned face to Mary Margaret. “So soon? In a fortnight?”

“Our cousin is eager to have us settled with her at an early date. Come August, the roads will be congested with people traveling from London to their country-estates,” said Mary Margaret. “But this doesn’t mean we won’t see each other again. Ingrid has begged us to treat her house as our home, and we would be very happy to have you over for a visit once we have settled down.” Turning to Regina, Mary Margaret added, “It goes without saying you and my brother are welcome to visit us at Misthaven as well.”

 _Bravo_ , thought Emma, trying hard to repress a smile at Regina’s scowl.

The next two weeks were spent in the bustle of packing, making travel arrangements, and the sad business of leave-taking from friends and servants. Regina’s satisfaction at her sisters-in-law’s departure was somewhat marred when she found that they were taking the fine breakfast china and a Japanese tea cabinet along with Emma’s pianoforte. These items had belonged to their mother, and had subsequently been bequeathed to them. Regina considered these articles too grand for a mere cottage, but aside from grumbling over it, she could not do anything to prevent their removal. She did, however, use it as an argument to dissuade her husband from giving any sort of monetary gift to his sisters to assist them in their move.

One of the hardest partings was when Mary Margaret went to say goodbye to her faithful brown horse, Herc. Mary Margaret was an avid horse-woman, and would have loved to take Herc with her to Devonshire. However, they would not be able to afford to stable horses at Arendell, and so that was that. Mary Margaret lost track of the time as she stood whispering to the horse and stroking its back. She and Emma were to leave Locksley the next morning, and there was no saying when she might see Herc again. The sound of the stable door opening brought her out of her brown study. She turned around to find David standing behind her, looking a little embarrassed at having disturbed her.

“I’m sorry to have interrupted you in your leave-taking, Miss Blanchard,” he said. “Your sister was looking for you. She wanted to consult you about the books you’re to take to Devonshire, and I offered to fetch you.”

“Oh, I’ll be right over,” said Mary Margaret, “I was just woolgathering.”

“I can go tell Emma that you’ll be back in a little while, if you wish…”

“No, no,” said Mary Margaret, sighing and giving the horse a final pat. “Saying goodbye won’t get any easier in thirty minutes. Better not to prolong my misery.”

David gave a weak smile in return.

As they walked back to the house in silence, Mary Margaret could not help noticing that David seemed a hundred miles away. She hesitated for a few moments and then asked him if there was anything the matter.

David shook his head. “I was only thinking over what you’d said back at the stable.”

“What I’d said?” Mary Margaret was puzzled. She didn’t remember saying anything that could have put David in a contemplative mood.

“That there’s no point in putting off unpleasant tasks.”

“Oh?”

“I…sometimes do that. For instance, my father greatly desired me to go into politics. I was always interested in the church. But I felt that it would be disrespectful to his memory if I got ordained soon after his death. It’s been five years since my father’s death, but I’m yet to take that step.”

“Do you feel guilty about not fulfilling your father’s wishes?”

“At first, I did. But I know now for a surety that I’d never have suited the role of a politician.”

“No,” Mary Margaret replied with a smile. “Your countenance does not lend itself to prevarication.”

David flushed. “You think too highly of me,” he muttered.

Mary Margaret stopped. She laid a gentle hand on David’s arm. “Is there something wrong? If there is anything I can do to help, even if only to lend a listening ear as a friend, I would be very happy to do so.”

“You’re too kind. Please believe me when I say that I value your friendship very highly, and if I could confide in you, I would.” David looked pained. “But, I cannot…. That is to say, I’m not at liberty to speak plainly. Or to act,” he added bitterly.

They had reached the house. Emma hailed Mary Margaret through an open window in the second storey. Before Mary Margaret could say anything further to David, he had excused himself with a muttered apology. She was extremely unsettled by her talk with David. Was he trying to make it clear that he had no intentions towards her? Or had he been alluding to some other, private worry? For the rest of the day, Mary Margaret kept puzzling over it, but she did not get any further opportunities of speaking to David alone that day. When they all met at breakfast the next morning, however, he seemed to have recovered from his odd humor of the day before, and upon Emma’s insistence, promised to be one of their earliest visitors at Arendell Cottage.

Some tears were shed by the young Miss Blanchards when the carriage doors were shut on them at last, and they began the first leg of their journey to Misthaven. However, the sadness they felt at leaving their former life behind was intermixed with the relief of parting from their sister-in-law and an eagerness to see what their new home would be like. The hope of David’s visiting them at Arendell ere long provided an additional measure of comfort.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do check out captainswanandclintasha's lovely artwork for this story on tumblr. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I would love to hear your thoughts. :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments and kudos. Once again, a thousand thanks to my amazing betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt.

Ingrid welcomed Mary Margaret and Emma to Arendell Cottage with a degree of cordiality and affection that immediately set the sisters at ease. The cottage was a comfortably fitted building with ivy clinging to its outer walls. Emma’s pianoforte and the coveted Japanese tea cabinet had been sent ahead, and were set-up in the drawing room, to which Ingrid ushered them to partake of refreshment.

“I hope your journey wasn’t too fatiguing, my dears,” said Ingrid, as she poured out the tea.

“It was very comfortable, thank you, ma’am,” said Mary Margaret, passing a cup of tea to Emma before taking one herself.

“I’m glad to hear that. But do let us not stand on ceremony,” said Ingrid. “‘Cousin Ingrid’ or ‘cousin’ will do very well.”

Mary Margaret and Emma smiled. In five minutes, their cousin had managed to make them feel at home in her cottage, while a few hours with their sister-in-law had been enough to make them feel like intruders in the house where they’d always lived.

“And how are Robin and his family doing? Is his wife as grasping as ever?” Ingrid observed with a twinkle.

Emma huffed out a laugh, while Mary Margaret looked a little stunned at their cousin’s candid remark.

“I was not aware that you were acquainted with Regina,” said Mary Margaret, avoiding a direct answer.

“I met Regina shortly after your brother’s wedding. From what I remembered, I formed the impression that you two wouldn’t be happy living in Locksley with her as its mistress.”

“You surmised correctly, cousin” confirmed Emma. She was beginning to like Ingrid very much.

Mary Margaret did not feel comfortable openly criticizing her sister-in-law, but she acquiesced, and expressed her gratitude to Ingrid on behalf of herself and her sister for inviting them to stay with her.

“You are too scrupulous, my dears,” said Ingrid, with a wave of her hand. “You’re doing me as much of a favor, if not more, by coming to live with me.”

Ingrid then showed the sisters around the cottage. The ground floor consisted of a drawing room, a parlor, and a dining room, apart from the domestic quarters at the back. The second floor had two principal bedrooms—one used by Ingrid, and another one with two beds to be shared by Emma and Mary Margaret. There was a smaller bedroom which was kept empty for guests. A study and a small library completed the remaining rooms upstairs. None of the furnishings in the cottage were new, but everything was neat and orderly. Netted tablecloths and pillow-covers embroidered with brightly-colored material lent a homey atmosphere to the decor.

Emma and Mary Margaret were then introduced to the household staff. The domestics comprised of Mrs. Patmore the cook, Astrid the kitchen maid, and Ashley the housemaid. An outdoor manservant, Leroy, acted as gardener and odd-jobs man. He was tending to the small kitchen-garden behind the cottage when the three ladies stepped outside through the back door. The cottage was set on the slope of a hill close to the valley floor—and yet not so low as to be in danger of flooding during the damper months. The lush green valley stretched out in front of them, dotted prettily with wildflowers.  A few clouds scudded across the blue sky, and a mild breeze blew strands of hair across their faces. Being no horse-woman, Emma enjoyed walking. She made a resolution to get plenty of exercise on the green slopes before winter set in. Ingrid pointed out a couple of neighboring estates visible from where they stood and named the resident families.

As the ladies stood looking at the serene valley, the green tableau was broken-up by the appearance of a horseman exiting the wooded hills on the other side. He rode a chestnut stallion, and Emma was struck by the elegance of the beast as its master set it galloping across the downs. Once the pair reached the valley floor, the rider eased the animal into a graceful canter and continued along the winding path set in the middle. If she had any artistic ability, Emma felt that she might have attempted to capture the scene on canvas, because the horse and its rider acted as a sort of focal point to the picturesque beauty of the valley.

“Who is that?” she asked Ingrid.

“That is Captain Killian Jones of Misthaven Abbey,” Ingrid supplied.

“Misthaven Abbey?” Emma’s eyes lit up. “What does it look like?”

“Is it open for visitors?” Mary Margaret chimed in.

Both girls were great readers of gothic novels like _The Castle of Otranto_ and _The Mysteries of Udolpho_. Such works had given them a fondness for castles and abbeys. Their parents had taken them to visit Highclere Castle two summers ago as a special treat to celebrate the end of their formal education under a governess. It was the last time they had traveled as a family, and Emma and Mary Margaret cherished their memories of that holiday.

“It’s a wonderful edifice—well-worth seeing, I assure you. But I do not believe it is open to visitors these days.”

“Why ever not?” asked Emma, curious.

“Captain Jones is often away on naval campaigns, though that is likely to stop now that the war is ended. I believe the last owner left everything sadly involved, and he’s had quite a job getting the affairs of the estate in order.”

“He has a fine mount,” said Mary Margaret, a hint of longing in her voice.

“Indeed. That animal is the envy of many a gentleman for miles around,” said Ingrid. Giving a mischievous smile, she added, “Captain Jones is single.”

Emma laughed out aloud. “Cousin Ingrid! We’ve just arrived at Arendell; are you trying to get us married off already?”

“Of course not,” Ingrid replied with a smile, “but I do know that the natural order of things cannot be stopped.”

“Is he one of the ‘Prince Charmings’ you spoke of in your letter?” asked Emma and grinned. “As a naval man, this one might turn out to be more of a corsair than a prince.”

They laughed and continued to watch man and beast until they were but distant specks in the horizon.

After an early dinner, the sisters turned in for the night, and almost immediately fell asleep, both too exhausted to discuss their new home beyond confessing their relief and satisfaction at their cousin’s kind reception.  

***

Emma and Mary Margaret spent the first week after arrival adjusting to their new home and getting used to their cousin’s daily routines. And for her part, Ingrid did everything to make her new charges feel comfortable and at ease. The number of servants in the cottage was very much reduced from what the girls were used to. Ingrid managed the running of the household herself, and did not employ a housekeeper or a butler. Emma could not help feeling a little cramped within the cottage, not only because she had to share a room with her sister—which they had not done since they were children, but because Arendell was much smaller than Locksley. It seemed as though ten steps were enough to get from one end of the cottage to the other. The pervasive reminders of her parents, which she had unconsciously felt at Locksley, were missing from Arendell, leaving her feeling bereft all over again. Emma could see that her sister was feeling low-spirited as well. The loss of David’s society was likely to be an additional contributing factor in that, even if Mary Margaret did not openly acknowledge it.

One or two neighbors stopped by on brief morning visits, eager to take a look at Miss White’s young relations and welcome them to Misthaven. The neighborhood was not a very large one, and any new addition was considered an improvement. Even more so, when the Miss Blanchards were found to be so young, lovely, and accomplished. Among the earliest visitors were Mrs. Lucas of Lucas Park, and her young, married granddaughter, Ruby Whale. Mrs. Lucas was a shrewd, kind, elderly woman, with somewhat of a propensity for gossip. Ruby was tall and pretty-looking with dark hair and green eyes. She was about the same age as Emma and Mary Margaret. The young women were pleased to make each other’s acquaintance. Ruby’s husband was a physician of some eminence in London and his services were highly sought-after among the nobility and aristocracy. On account of his professional obligations, the newly married couple were on but a short visit to Misthaven and due to return to London at the end of the following week. As for Mrs. Lucas, she was delighted to have two single young women to match-make for, now that her own granddaughter was married and settled. She invited them to dine at her residence before Ruby and her husband left for London.

On the day of their dinner engagement at Lucas Park, Mrs. Lucas’s carriage arrived at a quarter to four to fetch the ladies of Arendell cottage. Emma had dressed for the occasion with no great expectation of pleasure. She and her sister had not been in mixed company since their parents had died and were still in deep mourning, which had initially made them a little reluctant to accept Mrs. Lucas’s kind invitation. However, the kindly old lady had reassured them that it was to be only a small party of friends, and the sisters had felt obliged to accept upon Ingrid’s added persuasion. Emma had put on a simple evening dress of dark green muslin without any ornamentation except for a thin gold chain around her neck. Mary Margaret was dressed in dark blue, and they both wore black armbands as a sign of mourning.

Lucas Park was an old-fashioned manor house, large and rambling, and the interior was likewise furnished in the style of fifty years ago. Ornate chandeliers hung from gilded ceilings and long-dead Lucases with severe expressions frowned down upon the visitors from portraits that adorned the walls. Mrs. Lucas and Ruby rose to receive them when they entered the drawing room. The Blanchards were introduced to Ruby’s husband, Dr. Victor Whale, a modishly-dressed, distinguished looking gentleman with a touch of superciliousness in his manner.

“We’re only waiting for two more guests to arrive,” said Ruby, after the introductions had been completed. “Mrs. Gould and Captain Jones.”

Even as she spoke, the door was thrown open, and the aforementioned twosome were announced into the room.

Ever since the day she had caught a glimpse of Captain Jones galloping down the valley, Emma had been curious to meet the man. Therefore, she eagerly turned to look at the new arrivals.

Captain Jones was an impeccably turned-out gentleman in his early-thirties, who evidently subscribed to the elegant sartorial style of the king of fashion, “Beau” Brummell. The captain was dressed in an exquisitely cut suit of dark blue, a striped waistcoat of pale cream, and ankle-length buff-colored pantaloons that molded to his muscular thighs. His feet were enclosed in polished leather shoes, and a single fob dangled from his waist. The effect was completed by a neatly-arranged cerulean neck-cloth. His clothes signaled him to be a man of both fashion and taste, without the excess of fripperies that would have rendered a less well-judging younger man of fashionable high society—otherwise known as the _ton_ —liable to the charge of being called a “dandy” (even Dr. Whale had a few too many fobs and seals dangling from his person). Captain Jones flirted on the borderline of dandyism in his choice of jewelry, perhaps, as he wore several rings on his fingers. However, he carried them with panache.

Emma and Mary Margaret rose as Mrs. Lucas made the introductions.

“Miss Blanchard, Miss Emma, may I present to you Capitan Jones of Misthaven Abbey?”

Captain Jones made a bow to Mary Margaret and turned to Emma. Their eyes met. A thrill coursed through Emma at the dazzling Irish blue of his eyes, beautifully framed by dark eyelashes. He bowed slowly, holding her gaze. Emma just barely remembered to curtsy.

“And this is Mrs. Gould of French Lodge,” Mrs. Lucas continued, introducing them next to a petite brunette dressed in yellow, who looked to be in her thirties.

The dinner gong was struck and Mrs. Lucas rose and lead the way to the dining room. Captain Jones, who had been just ahead of Emma, pulled out a chair for her. Emma sat down with a muttered _“thank you”_ as he took his seat in the chair next to hers.

When the soup and fish had been served, Mrs. Lucas set the conversational ball rolling. “Miss Blanchard, how do you and your sister like Devonshire? Quite a change from Sussex, I warrant.”

Mary Margaret replied, “We like it very well, Mrs. Lucas, thank you.”

“We’ve never lived so close to the sea before. It’s wonderful!” said Emma.

“Have you been down to the seashore?” Captain Jones asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“No, but I’ve walked up to the summit of hill directly across the valley from Arendell cottage, and there is a fine view of the ocean from the top.”

“That must have been quite the hike!” Belle Gould exclaimed.

“A little. But I enjoyed it,” Emma replied, with a shrug. “And the view was well worth the exertion.”

“If you’re fond of walking,” said Ruby, “there are several fine trails in the neighborhood, and they’re all quite safe. I spent half my childhood running around in those woods.”

“Don’t I know it,” said Mrs. Lucas. The affectionate glance she threw at her granddaughter belied the long-suffering tone of her statement.

“If you’re interested in old English architecture, there are several old castles in these parts that are worth exploring,” said Belle. “Rougemont Castle, about ten miles from here, dates back to the time of William the Conqueror.”

Everyone chipped in with various suggestions of natural and man-made beauties in and around the area that were worth seeing. A brief interruption took place when the first course was brought in and conversation resumed once all the dishes had been placed in their rightful spots on the table.

“I wish we could stay longer and explore the country hereabouts with the Miss Blanchards. I haven’t seen many of the local attractions myself!” said Ruby. Turning to her husband, she added playfully, “My love, can’t you let one or two of your patients die while we extend our visit?”

“I wish I could, my dear,” Dr. Whale replied, smiling, as he expertly carved the roast. “But I fear I wouldn’t have any patients to get back to if we were to linger.”

“Speaking of local attractions,” Mrs. Lucas began, “how are the improvements to the Abbey coming along, Captain?”

“Very well, Mrs. Lucas,” he replied. “I expect them to be completed before the winter sets in.”

Captain Jones carved the partridge before him and offered it to Mrs. Lucas and Emma. Emma noticed that he was holding his left hand a little stiffly, and had not taken the glove off the hand. She wondered if he had been injured in the war.

“I haven’t stepped inside the Abbey in years. I would love to see what has been done to it,” Mrs. Lucas said wistfully. “The Abbey boasts of some of the finest old architecture I’ve come across. Parts of it date back to the twelfth century, I believe.”

“Emma and Mary Margaret are particularly interested in seeing the Abbey as well,” put in Ingrid, much to Emma’s embarrassment.

“I did not think Misthaven Abbey was so popular as to merit such general interest,” said Captain Jones, amusement lacing his tone. “I have to return to London shortly. However, I shall be back mid-September, and I would be very happy to arrange a tour of the Abbey for all the present company.”

This offer was met with general approbation and gratitude.

After a brief lull in the conversation, Ingrid said, “Now that the war’s over, I trust we can expect some peace and quiet to return to England at last.”

“As long as Bonaparte doesn’t escape again,” said Belle.

“That’s unlikely,” Dr. Whale announced pompously. “The allies will make sure they’re not twice made fools of by this man.”

There was a quick curl of the lip that Captain Jones hid behind his wine-glass.

Addressing the captain, Ruby asked, “Is there a chance you might be sent back to the West Indies now?”

“Come, my love! You cannot expect the captain to reveal grand naval plans to us commoners,” admonished her husband.

Captain Jones gave a slight smile. “I do not think so, but, we shall see, I suppose.”

“But you do not wish to return, do you?” asked Emma.

Captain Jones turned a startled face to her. Emma did not know what had made her say it, but some instinct or perhaps a slight tightening in the set of his shoulders had given her that impression.

“Perhaps I do not,” he said after a moment, his eyes boring into hers. Once again, Emma felt a rush of thrill surge through her at the intensity of the expression in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Why not?” asked Emma, unable to let go of the subject.

He took a sip of wine. “Perhaps I wish to play the role of indolent landowner for a while.” He spoke lightly but there was a shuttered expression in his eyes.

After dessert had been served and partaken, Mrs. Lucas rose from the table, signaling it was time for the ladies to leave the dining room to the men and their port wine.

“I hear you play the pianoforte, Miss Emma,” said Belle, adding honey to a cup of tea and stirring it with a spoon, when the women had gathered back in the drawing room.

Emma assented.

“We would love to hear you play for us,” said Ruby.

“I would be very happy to do so,” Emma replied with a smile.

“I’m so glad to hear that you are musically talented, Miss Emma,” said Belle. “I’m extremely fond of music, but I don’t play the piano myself. And ever since Ruby got married and left for London, I’ve barely heard anyone play the piano or sing.”

Ruby was showing Emma the sheet music collection at the Park when the men walked into the room, Dr. Whale making a beeline for his wife.

“Have you gentlemen done discussing all the great affairs of state, and now are come to get your share of lesser matters from the women-folk?” teased Ruby.

“Nay, my love. I came to entreat you to indulge us with some music,” said her husband, sitting down beside Ruby and pressing a kiss to her hand.

Ruby grinned. “How can I refuse such shameless flattery? However, I’m very eager to hear Miss Emma play first.” Turning to Emma, she begged her to lead, who assented with proper grace.

The instrument at Lucas Park was a grand piano, and as such, a much better one than Emma’s compact forte piano. She chose a sonata by Marianne von Martinez for her performance. Emma had a sweet singing voice and accompanied herself very well while playing. All were enthusiastic in their praise when she was done. Emma’s eyes automatically went to Captain Jones, and found him watching her with curious intensity. Emma then relinquished the piano to Ruby.

Two whist tables were set up after Ruby’s performance. Emma ended up in one with Mrs. Lucas, Captain Jones, and Ruby, while the other four made up the second table.

“I heard you’ve found a curate for the Misthaven rectory, Captain,” Mrs. Lucas remarked once the cards had been dealt with, and there was a bit of a lull in the play.

“You are very well-informed, ma’am,” Captain Jones replied with a wry smile. “He arrives tomorrow.”

“Indeed! What is his name? Where is he from?”

“His name is August Booth. His family comes from the north, I believe.”

“He’s from the north, is he?” said Mrs. Lucas. “I do not know anybody from that part of the country.”

“Dr. Hopper says he knew Mr. Booth’s father well. I daresay he’ll turn out to be quite adequate as a curate,” replied the captain carelessly.

“Hmm…I’m curious to see how this northerner preaches,” said Mrs. Lucas. She tended to be a tad suspicious of anyone who came from up north. Or outside Devonshire, really. She added, “A curate is all well and good for now. But Captain, you may need to look for a new rector as well. I hear Dr. Stone is doing very poorly.”

“Granny!” protested Ruby, laughing.

“Who is Dr. Stone?” asked Emma.

“He is the Misthaven rector,” Ruby explained. “He’s been ailing for some time, and was ordered to Bath by his physician to try the healing waters. Poor Dr. Stone! I hope he gets better soon.”

“I’m just being realistic, my dear,” said Mrs. Lucas, unabashed. “If you’re holding out for a good offer, Captain, all I say is you had better find someone soon, or you may lose the opportunity to do so.”

“I’ll take it under advisement, ma’am,” said Captain Jones, smiling at the older woman.

The next two sets of tricks were taken by Emma and Ruby.

“I wish you didn’t have to go back to London so soon, my dear,” Mrs. Lucas said after a pause. “Perhaps you can persuade that husband of yours to come back for some fox-hunting in November?”

“I shall try, Granny. But if I cannot, you’ll have to come and visit us in London,” said Ruby.

“You know how I hate the city!” Mrs. Lucas made a dismissive gesture, as though trying to wish London out of existence.

“I know, Granny!” said Ruby, reached leaning over and giving her grandmother an affectionate half-hug. “But I’ll make everything comfortable for you and just as you like it.”

“Well, well…we shall see,” said Mrs. Lucas, patting Ruby’s shoulder. “I suppose I’m to just let everything get to sixes and sevens here while I’m gallivanting about in London.”

As Ruby and Mrs. Lucas continued their affectionate bickering, Captain Jones leant forward slightly towards Emma and said in a low voice, “Your performance on the piano was excellent, Miss Emma.”

Emma thanked him.

“I had not expected anyone so young to be acquainted with the music of von Martinez, let alone play it with such passion,” Captain Jones stated.

“Indeed,” Emma replied, unsure if he had meant that remark as a compliment, or if she ought to take offense at his implication that she would not be aware of von Martinez’s compositions. “Do you play the piano yourself, sir?”

“I used to,” said Captain Jones, with a brief glance at his left hand. Shaking his head a little, he continued, “May I ask why you chose to play that particular piece?”

Emma gave a half-smile. “Rather than a popular Scotch or Irish air?” Captain Jones arched his brow, silently waiting for her to reply. Emma paused for a few moments while she debated whether or not to answer him. Making her decision to answer him—after all, what would be the harm in it—she said, “I’m most used to playing on a pianoforte rather than a grand piano. If I’m playing on an unfamiliar instrument, I find that choosing a complex piece of music helps me to concentrate better on my fingering and footwork.”

“Most people would’ve chosen to play something simpler for the reason you give.”

“You think I took a foolish risk, then?”

“While singing too?” he asked skeptically. “Did that also help you to concentrate?”

“The singing was to cover any mistakes in my execution,” said Emma with a mischievous smile, taking the trick in that round.

Captain Jones threw his head back and laughed. “You are quite full of surprises, Miss Emma!” he said, recovering himself, his eyes sparkling in mirth.

Mrs. Lucas peered at the two of them suspiciously. The game over, Ruby counted out the total number of tricks between the two teams, and made a celebratory gesture. “Hah! Emma and I won!”

The other table also having concluded their game, there was a bit of shuffle among the players. Emma and Mrs. Lucas changed places with Belle and Dr. Whale at the second table.

“It pleases me to see Mrs. Whale so happy and well-settled, my dear Mrs. Lucas,” said Ingrid, with a glance at Ruby. “That must be such a comfort to you!”

“It is indeed, Miss White,” Mrs. Lucas replied. “For a time, I was afraid she would never get married, the way she used to turn up her nose at every suitor.”

Emma bit her lip to hide a smile, which, unfortunately, Mrs. Lucas caught. The older lady narrowed her eyes and said, “I suspect you are a picky one too, eh, Miss Emma?”

“There’s nothing wrong with having certain requirements, is there, Mrs. Lucas?” Emma replied with a grin.

“Be careful dear, those that are the pickiest fall the hardest, as they say!” said Mrs. Lucas. Giving her a sly look and gesturing with her elbow to where Captain Jones was sitting at the other table, she added, “That one is well worth setting his cap at. He would do very well for either you or your sister.”

“My sister and I were not brought up to the trade of ‘setting our caps’ at anyone, ma’am,” said Emma, exasperated that everyone seemed to be trying to matchmake her and Mary Margaret with Captain Jones just because he was a single man in possession of a good fortune.

Mrs. Lucas was undaunted by the remark. “My dear child, you may quarrel with my turn of phrase, but that doesn’t make it any the less true! He’s a little older than the two of you, perhaps, but that doesn’t signify in the least,” she declared. Glancing at the other table to make sure they were out of earshot, she added in a lower register, “There was a twenty-year difference between Mrs. Gould and her late husband, the previous owner of Misthaven Abbey, and they were as happy as any couple could be.”

“Perhaps the fact that he has remained unmarried for so long is because he doesn’t want to get married,” said Mary Margaret, trying unsuccessfully to stop the direction the conversation had taken.

Mrs. Lucas rolled her eyes. “Why wouldn’t he want to? At thirty-two, he’s at the prime of his life. He does have his ward living at the Abbey during the holidays,” she continued, “but she’s a quiet creature, and gives little trouble, from all I hear.”

“His ward?” asked Emma.

“Aye,” said Mrs. Lucas, nodding her head. “A lass of fourteen—nay—fifteen. Wendy’s her name. He’s brought her up these four years.”

“She is his niece or cousin,” said Ingrid, taking a delicate sip from her teacup. “He took on her charge after the death of her parents, I believe.”

Mrs. Lucas ducked her head and whispered. “That may well be the case. But the lass looks so much like him, I couldn’t help suspecting a much closer connection.”

“Her being his niece would explain the resemblance, without the need for anything more,” said Ingrid, mildly.

“I daresay you’re right,” Mrs. Lucas conceded. “But him being a naval man, I couldn’t help wondering…”

“My dear Mrs. Lucas!” said Ingrid.

The party broke up soon after. Captain Jones offered to take Ingrid and the Miss Blanchards home in his carriage along with Belle. Even though the coach was large enough to seat all of them, he chose to ride on the box with the coachman, leaving the ladies more room to sit comfortably within.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I would love to hear your thoughts. Don't forget to check-out @captainswanandclintasha's lovely picset for the first two chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to my wonderful betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt. A little note on the local geography: Arendell cottage is located in the village of Misthaven in Devonshire county. Storybrooke is a market town near Misthaven (like Meryton in P&P).

Emma set off on a walk the following morning on one of the trails Ruby had suggested. She trekked up a winding path, which led to a small elevation set with a pretty little Grecian pavilion. There was mist rising everywhere, so she could only catch glimpses of the valley below on one side and the ocean on the other. The occasional bird-call pierced the relentless crashing of the waves against the cliff-face. Misthaven was certainly beautiful. Emma stood in silent contemplation for a little while and started back, taking an approach with a more gradual descent down to Arendell. There was a fast-flowing brook swollen from recent rains and she followed it to the pond it fed into.

The surface of the pond was glimmering in the sunlight. There was a family of swans on the shore—two adult birds and hatch of cygnets. Emma stood admiring them from a distance, knowing better than to approach too closely. As she watched, one of the babies suddenly vanished down a hole in the ground mid-waddle. The mother-swan, quite agitated, started honking at the lip of the hole. Emma stood paralyzed for a few moments, then she stepped carefully towards the birds. At her approach, the adult swans turned and hissed at her warningly. She untied her bonnet and continued to approach closer speaking at the birds in a soothing tone. “It’s okay, I only want to help.”

As she stepped closer, the male bird flapped its wings and herded the rest of its brood back to the pond, continuing to snort at her in warning. By slow degrees, Emma got closer to the trapped cygnet and its mother. The baby bird seemed safe enough, but the hole was too deep for it to crawl out of, and too narrow for the mother-bird to help it up. The mother withdrew a little at Emma’s approach, but when she knelt down and tried to reach down into the hole, it ran up and gave her sleeve a little peck.

“I’m only trying to get your baby out!” Emma sighed as she tried to ward off the mother-swan with her bonnet in one hand, while attempting to reach the baby with her other hand, and also keeping a wary eye out for the father. The clip-clop of a horse heralded the approach of someone. Emma turned to see if they were close enough to call out for help. But the rider was already slowing down his horse with a  _“Whoa! Whoa!”_

“Miss Emma! What are you doing?” said Captain Jones—for it was he—as he dismounted and approached.

The mother-swan, disliking the addition of more creatures threatening her offspring, ran forward a little, honking loudly at them. The male-swan was hovering close to the shore, hissing and guarding the rest of the brood.

“Get your horse away from here, Captain Jones!” Emma exclaimed a little breathless, as she attempted to take advantage of the bird’s preoccupation with the new arrivals to reach further down into the hole. “A cygnet fell down…but the mother won’t let me…”

To his credit, Captain Jones did as he was told. He quickly tied his horse to a tree further from the shore. When he came back, he held a blanket.

“You go ahead, Miss Emma, I’ll distract the mother,” he said, waving the blanket at the bird.

Sure enough, the swan rushed at him once more, snorting and wings flapping. Quick as lightning, Captain Jones flipped the blanket up and brought it down neatly on the bird. He brought his arms down in an arch around the trapped bird, leveraging it up, and wound the blanket around its torso. He then folded-back the blanket over the swan’s head to give it room to breathe. The bird stayed quiet.

Emma gave a triumphant cry as she extricated the baby from the hole and cradled it in her palm. She took one look at the blanket-wrapped bundle on the ground by Captain Jones. “How did you do that?” she asked, her mouth falling open in surprise.

Captain Jones laughed. “Let’s get the mother and the little cygnet back to their family, eh?” He picked up the bundle carefully from the ground and walked to the edge of the pond.

Emma followed the captain, holding the chirping baby bird in her palms. She planted a tiny kiss on the cygnet’s head and set it down close to the edge of the water. It immediately slipped into the water and swam off to join its family. The male-bird was still fluffing its wings threateningly at Emma and Killian.

“Get back!” Captain Jones commanded. He set the swaddled bird down by the edge of the pond and slowly loosened the blanket by gentle tugging at it back and forth. Soon, the folds were loose enough for the swan to wriggle out. It stood frozen for a moment, and then, flapping its wings, it glided into the water and swam out to join its family.

Emma let out a relieved sigh and thanked Captain Jones for his help.

“You’re welcome, Miss Emma,” he said, his eyes dancing in mirth. “It appears we make quite the team.”

The way Captain Jones was looking at her, with a mixture of amusement and admiration, flustered Emma. She turned away, a delicate blush tinting her cheeks, and kicked dirt over the hole to fill it in.

“May I escort you home?” Captain Jones asked, walking up to his stallion.

“No, thank you, Captain,” said Emma. Glancing at the horse with interest, she added, “He’s gorgeous. What is his name?”

“Poseidon,” Captain Jones replied. Seeing the expression on Emma’s face, he grinned. “My brother tended to be grandiose at times. But I always call him Bill.”

Emma burst out laughing. “Did the horse belong to your brother?”

“Yes. He was very annoyed when this one would only answer to ‘Bill’.” Captain Jones gently scratched the horse’s back. Bill nickered in response and snuggled up to him. Turning to Emma, Captain Jones asked, “Would you like to pet him?”

“I would like that very much,” she said, her eyes brightening.

Emma approached Bill and softly stroked his neck.

Captain Jones rooted through his saddle bag and pulled out an apple. “Here, give him the apple.”

Bill snorted once and graciously accepted the proffered apple. Giving the horse one final pat Emma stepped back, smiling. She thanked the captain for his help once more and started back home.

The next day, Emma and Mary Margaret took Ingrid’s donkey cart to Storybrooke, the principal town in the area, to restock supplies for their work basket. On returning home, Emma found that Captain Jones had stopped by to drop off some music sheets for her. As she attempted the pieces on her pianoforte, Emma’s thoughts frequently strayed to the captain. She had been pleasantly surprised at how quickly he had joined her quest to rescue the baby bird and was flattered that he had brought her the sheet music. She half-expected him to call again within the week, but the next thing she heard of Captain Jones was that he had left for London, and despite Mrs. Lucas continuing to tease her about him whenever they met, he slowly faded into the background of her mind.

***

Emma and Mary Margaret soon settled into the pattern of their new life. Ingrid was well-read and well-informed, and as kind to them as she had been on the day of their arrival. Apart from a few long-standing acquaintances in the neighborhood, she did not mingle much in society, and so the young women’s social engagements were fewer than before. Neither Emma nor Mary Margaret minded the comparative scarcity of dining engagements or the absence of balls as they still grieved for their parents and missed their erstwhile home. But the sorrow ebbed and flowed—sharp and bitter on some days, a mellow ache in their hearts on others.

One day, about a month after her arrival at the cottage, Emma was feeling particularly restless and cooped-up. She had mostly kept to her resolution of walking out in the countryside every day, Mary Margaret accompanying her most of the time. However, it had been raining heavily during the past two days and Emma had not been able to step outside even once. There wasn’t enough light to sew or read without using more candles than she felt justified in daylight hours, and she was not in the mood to play anything on the pianoforte. Therefore she had nothing better to do but stare out the window, hoping for the rain to let up.

The minute it stopped raining, Emma set off on her usual walk, ignoring Leroy’s pessimistic prognostications of further rain, and Ingrid’s cautions about mud. Within a few minutes, the damp had seeped through her shoes and into her stockings. Emma felt silly, but she stubbornly kept walking. Fat droplets of rain fell on her shortly after, and it started pouring again. She could hear Mary Margaret calling for her from the direction of the cottage. The rain was coming down so thickly now, she could barely see her nose. With a sigh, Emma decided to stop being a fool and turned back. Lightning forked across the sky and silhouetted the form of a horse just in front of her. Startled by the clap of thunder that followed, the animal whinnied and reared up, its forelegs far too close to Emma’s face. With a scream, Emma stumbled backward, tripped, and fell to the ground. She lay sprawled, her heart thudding as she tried to collect her bearings.

A man had dismounted from the horse and was talking to it soothingly. Emma pressed her weight on an elbow and attempted to get off the ground, only for her ankle to twinge in agonizing pain. She gave an involuntary shout and fell back down. The man hurried to her side. She could barely distinguish his countenance through the streaming rivulets of water running down her face.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”

Emma bit off a sharp retort and said instead, “I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Please, allow me to be of assistance,” he said, offering her his hand. “Where do you reside?”

“Over there,” said Emma pointing, she hoped, in the direction of the cottage and grabbed the stranger’s hand. She attempted to get up once more, only to fall back again with another yelp of pain. Emma closed her eyes as blackness swam before her eyelids. The next moment, she was being gently lifted up and seated on the horse, which had quieted down by then. The gentleman held her steady until she found her bearings and led the horse to the cottage.

“As Pan bears responsibility for startling you and causing your fall, he may as well make amends by carrying you home,” he said.

Emma supposed the name of the horse was Pan, but was too embarrassed to reply. Once they neared the cottage, Ingrid and Mary Margaret ran up to them in concern. Briefly explaining what had occurred, Emma’s benefactor lifted her from her mount and carried her indoors, depositing her in one of the sofas in the drawing room under Ingrid’s directions, on which Mary Margaret hastened to pile several rugs. Ingrid examined the troublesome ankle to check if it was broken, much to Emma’s embarrassment. Ingrid having ascertained it to be but a sprain, the stranger was too much of a gentleman to stay beyond being thanked. He left after obtaining permission to visit on the morrow to inquire after the state of the patient.

Mary Margaret and Ingrid fussed over Emma and helped her change out of her wet clothes. Ingrid made hot cocoa, having discovered that it was her favorite beverage some days previous. Emma protested, stressing that the cocoa was too precious to be wasted over a mere sprain, but Ingrid brooked no denial. Once Emma was settled in tolerable comfort with her hot beverage and pillows to elevate her feet, Mary Margaret started in on her.

“Cousin Ingrid, you didn’t tell us it rained knights-errant in these parts,” said Mary Margaret, turning to Ingrid. “I thought corsairs were the specialty of Misthaven.”

“He’s the reason I fell in the first place!” protested Emma, blushing.

“And yet you let him carry you home,” said Ingrid.

“His horse carried me,” said Emma, then blushed once more upon seeing the twinkle in the older woman’s eyes.

“He is quite handsome,” said Mary Margaret.

“I’ll take your word for it, sister. I barely saw his face.”

“You’ll get an opportunity to make your own judgment ere long. He’s promised to come visit in the morning to inquire on your prognosis,” put in Ingrid.

“There,” her sister declared in triumph, while Emma turned her face to hide another blush. Turning to Ingrid, Mary Margaret asked, “Do you know him, cousin? Is he an acquaintance of yours?”

Emma’s interest was piqued, even if her embarrassment over the ignominious fall almost overcame her curiosity to see her rescuer.

“Only a slight one. His name is Cassidy. He’s a connection of Mrs. Gould’s and visits her occasionally.”

“He doesn't live here?” asked Emma, her face falling a little.

“No,” replied Ingrid, unable to help a smile, “But he is just a county over—his seat is in Somersetshire.”

The morrow brought Mr. Cassidy bright and early to the cottage, and Emma got the opportunity to make her own judgment about her “knight-errant”, as Mary Margaret had put it. Neal Cassidy was a gentlemanly young man with a boyish smile and a pleasant countenance. While his clothing was well-cut and neatly tailored, it was neither ostentatious nor in the first style of fashion. There was an air of casual elegance in his turnout that was rather attractive in its simplicity. He presented Emma with a nosegay of sweetly-scented wildflowers and sat by her and talked with such engaging cheerfulness that Emma almost forgot her hurting ankle. Before the morning’s visit was concluded, Mr. Cassidy had charmed the occupants of the cottage with his agreeable manners and conversation. When he left, it was with a promise that he would visit again on the following day.

Neal Cassidy soon became a regular fixture of their mornings. He and Emma would sit talking for hours or Emma would play music and bask in his admiration. When her ankle was sufficiently mended, he accompanied her on short walks outside, offering his arm for support. When the excuse of Emma’s ankle no longer applied, he continued to visit almost every day. The days of his absence were days of wretchedness to her, and she moped around the cottage much to Ingrid’s and Mary Margaret’s fond exasperation and amusement.

Emma was not the only one to fall under Neal’s spell. He earned Mary Margaret’s eternal gratitude when he helped her set up an archery station away from the wind, and out of sight of the roads. The young people had a delightful afternoon painting targets on boards with an old tin of paint Emma scrounged up from the shed, much to Leroy’s disgust. Neal gratified Ingrid by waxing poetic on the merits of cottages, and would heed no complaints regarding narrow passageways and smoky chimneys.

Neal was moderately well known in the neighborhood and seemed to be generally well-liked. He was frequently invited to dine at Lucas Park along with the Blanchards, especially once Mrs. Lucas heard the saga of the sprained ankle. The older woman was delighted at the prospect of promoting a match between the single and eligible Neal Cassidy and Emma. Captain Jones was being quite uncooperative as a prospective suitor for the girls, as he had not yet returned from London. Besides, there were  _two_ young women to be disposed of in holy matrimony, and the eldest Miss Blanchard would do quite as well for the captain.

***

Only one person among all their acquaintance could be said to resist Neal Cassidy’s charm: Captain Jones.

Captain Jones returned to Misthaven in mid-September as promised. He called at Arendell one morning soon after his return and invited the ladies to a tour of Misthaven Abbey followed by a picnic luncheon on the grounds.

“Oh, how kind of you, Captain!” said Ingrid, smiling. With a quick glance at Emma and Mary Margaret, she added, “Thank you for your invitation. We would all be very happy to come!”

“Good.” Captain Jones gave a satisfied smile. “Does the twenty-second suit you?”

“Yes, that will do very well. We do not have any prior engagements on that day,” said Ingrid.

Emma had sent Captain Jones a note of thanks shortly after he had left the sheet music for her at the cottage, but she now took the opportunity to thank him in person.

“You’re very welcome, Miss Emma,” he replied. “How did you find the music?”

“An excellent set of pieces, some of which I had not heard before. But I fear you over-estimated my capabilities, Captain—some of them are quite complex.”

“I very much doubt they are beyond your capacity,” he returned with a smile. “I would be honored to hear you play them.”

“Thank you, I would be glad to. And I will be sure to copy the music and return the originals to you soon.”

“Do not trouble yourself,” said Captain Jones, with a dismissive wave. “They’re merely gathering dust at the Abbey. You’re very welcome to keep them.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that,” Emma demurred.

“Please—I insist,” said Captain Jones, the intense look back in his eyes. 

It was at this juncture that Ashley ushered Neal Cassidy into the room. He stopped short on seeing Captain Jones. Acknowledging the other man’s presence with the nod, Neal greeted the ladies and pulled up a chair next to Emma and sat down.

“I did not expect to find you at Misthaven, Mr. Cassidy,” Captain Jones said, his eyes taking-in Neal’s close proximity to Emma.

“Really?”

“Isn’t October your usual time of visiting Mrs. Gould?”

Neal raised his brow. “You seem to take an extraordinary amount of interest on how I arrange my social life, Captain,” he said.

“I can’t say I’ve given half a minute’s thought to it,” Captain Jones replied, with a shrug.

There was a terse silence as the men glared at each other. Emma exchanged a look with Mary Margaret.

The seconds ticked on in the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Do you plan to remain at the Abbey for some time, Captain?” asked Ingrid, perhaps anxious to break the odd tension in the room in her role of hostess.

“Yes, I have no immediate plans of returning to town,” he replied. His shoulders relaxed.

When the gentlemen had left, Emma could not help wondering over the strange hostility between Captain Jones and Neal Cassidy. She had not forgotten her initial attraction to the naval captain. Indeed, she still felt his charm. However, there was a quality of hardness about him—perhaps a product of a battle-worn life—that made it hard for her to trust him and only served as a reminder of the difference in age and experience between herself and the captain. He was over a decade her senior, and between his sojourn in the West Indies and experiences in the French Wars, had seen and done things Emma could only dream of. She was not so foolish as to lose her head over a man whose character and motivations she could not begin to fathom. His countenance did not reveal the inner workings of his heart the way Neal’s did. Neal’s casual charm and open temper inspired more confidence than the air of calculated reserve that hung about Captain Jones. She had very much wanted to visit the Abbey since the day of her arrival at Misthaven. In the aftermath of the scene she had witnessed, however, she hardly expected Captain Jones to include Neal in his invitation. Emma wasn’t sure if she would be able to fully enjoy her visit without Neal being one of the party.

On the morning of the day of the proposed tour however, a note arrived from Captain Jones canceling the engagement, with apologies that he had to leave Misthaven on urgent, unavoidable business. To take her mind off her disappointment, Emma sat at her pianoforte with the sheet of music she had been working on for the past few days. It was one of the more complex pieces in the set Captain Jones had given her, and there was one particular section that was proving to be bit of a challenge. She was so engrossed that she didn’t realize that there was a visitor until the drawing room door opened to admit Neal.

“I heard that your visit to the Abbey had been put off,” he said, advancing into the room, “and came to see how you were holding up under the disappointment.”

“How kind of you!” said Emma, and gave a pleased smile. “I’ve been taking my mind off it with music.”

“What are you playing?” Neal came and stood behind her and peered over her shoulder. “Isn’t this the same one you’ve been working on for two days now?”

Emma turned to look at him. “There’s this one part I can’t seem to get just right.”

Neal wrinkled his nose. “Then, why are you wasting so much time on it? It’s a beautiful day outside. Let’s go for a walk.”

Emma hesitated for a moment, but then agreed to his suggestion.

They set off on a long walk up the hill and rested under a tree on the summit at Emma’s favorite spot. It commanded an excellent view of the ocean below. The sound of the waves crashing against the cliff-side made a pleasant backdrop to the noise of sea-birds crying out as their circled overhead and occasionally dived into the water to catch a fish. A cool breeze ruffled Emma’s bonnet and made the hot afternoon sunshine seem less severe than it was.

“I’m sorry for your sake that you weren’t able to visit the Abbey today. I know how much you wanted to see it,” said Neal, leaning back against the tree-trunk and gazing into the middle-distance. “But that’s so typical of Jones. He’s not reliable.”

“How do you know?” asked Emma, frowning. “Have you had any dealings with him in the past that went badly?”

Neal threw her a sideways glance. Instead of answering her directly, he said, “You probably noticed that he wasn’t too happy to see me at Misthaven the other day?”

Emma couldn’t help a tiny smile. “I could hardly have failed to notice that.”

Neal huffed out a laugh. “True enough,” he said.

Emma was bursting with curiosity, but she tried to remain patient and wait for her companion to share his thoughts with her in his own time.

“Jones and I have a complicated history,” said Neal, at last. He sat up a little straighter and proceeded with his tale. “It has a lot to do with his dealings with the late owner of Misthaven Abbey, Robert Gould. You know Mrs. Gould—Belle—was his second wife?”

Emma shook her head. “I didn’t know that. But then, my sister and I haven’t been here for long.”

“His first wife, Milah, was seduced and abandoned by a young naval lieutenant.” Neal gave her a pointed look.

“Good god! You don’t mean…” Emma pressed a hand to her chest, horrified.

“Jones successfully wears the mask of the war hero and squire now, what with his injury at Trafalgar and his succession to Misthaven Abbey. But he was a blackguard and a villain who never got his comeuppance.” Neal’s lips twisted into a sneer. He continued, “Milah took to laudanum to palliate her broken heart. One day, she took too much. Gould never knew if that had been an accident or if she had done it on purpose.”

Emma was silent for a few moments as she contemplated his words. She said at last. “How do you know of it, then? Were you on intimate terms with the late Mr. Gould or did you get the information through the present Mrs. Gould?”

“Robert Gould was my real father,” Neal stated baldly.

“You mean… _oh_.”

Neal nodded. “I was never an openly acknowledged son—I’m formally a Cassidy. My mother was a widow in the village where my father used to live. When he got her into trouble, he paid to get her married to a tradesman before I was born. But he genuinely cared for me, and took me in as his ward. Growing up, I used to stay at the Abbey often and he later purchased an estate for me in Somersetshire. I’m sure it’s generally known around these parts what the actual nature of my relationship to Robert Gould was.”

“Was he married when your mother…that is, when you were born?”

“No. He married Milah when I was seven years old, and after he’d inherited the Abbey. Two successive heirs had become casualties of the French and American wars, so his succession to the estate was completely unexpected.” Neal smiled bitterly. “I used to wonder if he’d have married my mother, even though she was not genteel by birth, if he’d known that she would’ve given him his only heir.”

Emma made commiserating sound. “How old were you when the first Mrs. Gould died? Did you know what had happened at the time?”

Neal shook his head. “I was away at Eton. It wasn’t until I was older that my father told me the whole story, wanting me to know the truth before he died.”

“What was the first Mrs. Gould like? Do you remember much of her?”

“She was affectionate at first,” said Neal, staring at the horizon. “As I grew older, she turned more distant. She and my father were always at each other’s throats by the I left for boarding school. I can see now that neither of them were happy. I suppose that’s why Milah strayed.”

“How is all this not generally known? Captain Jones seems well respected in these parts.”

“My papa couldn’t bear the scandal of it getting out, and the disgrace it would bring upon the family name. So he suppressed the truth.” Neal shrugged. “Can anyone blame him for wanting to preserve the family honor, even if it was but a veneer?”

“I do understand why Mr. Gould wanted to suppress the truth about his first wife’s death,” Emma said after a pause, “but it makes me sorry to think that Captain Jones never faced any sort of justice for his part, even if he only bears moral responsibility for it.”

“That’s the unfairness of our world,” said Neal. “I was sick with disgust when the Abbey passed to him. If I’d been Gould’s legitimate son, the Abbey would have come to me.”

Emma laid a hand over his in sympathy. After all, she knew what it felt like to be cut off from one’s home and heritage by the machinations of English entailment laws. Robert Gould could not have left Misthaven Abbey to his son, however much he may have wished to. Neal smiled gratefully at her and squeezed her hand gently before releasing it. Emma’s heart fluttered.

Neal continued, “As soon as he took possession, he started making ‘improvements’ and alterations to the property. I confronted him over it.”

“Did you?” asked Emma, her eyes shining. She admired him for his forthrightness.

Neal nodded. “Perhaps it was foolish of me—I’d just turned twenty-one, and was still naive in some ways. I accused him of disrespecting my father’s memory after the role he’d played in Milah’s death.” He scowled, recollecting the scene. “Jones laughed in my face and told me that I had no idea of how the ‘real world’ worked.”

“How despicable!”

“Ever since then, he’s done everything in his power to keep me from the Abbey, as though I was going to beg for an invitation. It would give me no pleasure to see him sit and preside where my father used to. He even demanded that I needed to get his permission to shoot in the manor. Do you know how that felt?” said Neal, his eyes narrowing in displeasure. “Jones inherited  _my_ birthright and now he treats me as if I’m no better than a common poacher. ”

Emma was indignant. How unjust that Neal should have lost the Abbey to such an undeserving man as Captain Jones! Struck by another thought, she asked, “Does Mrs. Gould—I mean, Mrs. Belle Gould—know of Captain Jones’s history with her husband? She seems to be on quite friendly terms with the captain.”

“I don’t know.” Neal shrugged. “I’ve never had the courage to ask her. However, she does know that I was Robert Gould’s son. I was fifteen when she married my father, and we’ve always gotten along quite well.”

Emma sat in silent contemplation of everything she had been told. She was now beyond thankful that she had not let herself get carried away by her initial attraction to Captain Jones. She had been right in mistrusting his reserve. She was also brought to mind of Mrs. Lucas’s speculation that Captain Jones might have fathered an illegitimate child. She had hardly credited its plausibility at the time, dismissing it as the mere result of a desire for scandal and sensation in the older woman, but now, she wondered if there was truth to it. Was it so outrageous a conjecture regarding a man who had pursued a married woman and later callously abandoned her? Emma was not so naive as to be unaware of the sordid side of life—the newspapers were filled with the notorious escapades of the Prince Regent’s set and their ilk. However, those sorts of occurrences had not touched the country circle the Blanchards had moved in. Emma found herself confronted with things she had never experienced firsthand, or even secondhand before.

To be sure, Emma hardly imagined Captain Jones to have any dishonorable intentions towards herself, whatever his past conduct may have been. However, there was no denying that he had seemed interested in getting better acquainted with her. Had it not been for the fortuitous circumstance of her meeting with Neal, there was no saying what may have transpired. Neal’s father, perhaps, had been no paragon of virtue himself. But Emma did not mean to judge the son on the father’s merits or demerits, as the case may be. She could not help but be flattered that Neal had trusted her so much as to share the truth about the nature of his relationship with the late Mr. Gould and his history with Captain Jones. These matters may perhaps be considered as indelicate topics of conversation between a single lady and a gentleman, but Emma could not help being grateful for Neal’s frankness. Emma would a thousand times trust a person of warm feelings who sometimes acted in a manner not quite proper over someone who was cautious in all their utterances and used their reserve as a mask to hide their true nature. It could not have been easy for Neal to share the truth of his parentage with her. It showed how much he valued her. That thought filled Emma’s chest with a warm flutter and made her realize that her feelings for Neal were blossoming into something much more precious than friendship or simple attraction.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill's name evolved from a fun discussion on the Discord chat. And yes--it is a nod to Sam's beloved pony from LotR. :-)  
> I would love to hear your thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to add a quick note to say this story is not solely focussed on Captain Swan. There will be a lot of focus on Emma-Mary Margaret and on Snowing. But if you are patient, I promise you there is plenty of CS coming up. Do check out the awesome pic-set made by @captainswanandclintasha for Chapters 3 & 4.

It was a quiet morning. Ingrid and Mary Margaret were in the parlor. Ingrid was reading Maria Edgeworth's novel, _Patronage_ , while Mary Margaret was embroidering a fine lace shawl. Emma and Neal were in the drawing room, the former nominally engaged in practicing her music. From the bursts of laughter that drifted down, she wasn’t making much progress.

Ingrid set down her book, and turning to Mary Margaret, said, “Your sister is rather in love with Mr. Cassidy, isn’t she?”

Startled, Mary Margaret looked up. “Yes. I suppose she is.”

“And he seems quite fond of her as well.”

At that moment, a peal of laughter rang out from the other room. Mary Margaret smiled and said, “They do seem very much in love.”

“I hope he will declare himself soon.”

Mary Margaret was astonished. “My dear cousin! They’ve only known each other for a month!”

“That may well be, my dear,” said Ingrid with a shrug. “However, his behavior to Emma has been quite pointed, as at Lucas Park the other night. People notice such things.”

Mary Margaret bent her head down to her work to cover her vexation. She knew to what evening Ingrid was alluding. Emma and Neal had sat by each other during dinner and had scarcely spoken to anyone else. After dinner, when the ladies had withdrawn to the drawing room, Neal had followed soon after, and he and Emma had sat at the grand piano, whispering together. In the card game that followed, he had finessed, maneuvered, and cheated everyone to get Emma a winning hand. Mary Margaret had felt the impoliteness of their behavior, but had not the heart to reproach her sister. Emma had not looked so cheerful in months.

The next day brought an even more pointed remark from Ingrid. Emma disappeared along with Neal in the morning, and was not home until dinner time. Emma looked a little defensive on her return, as though she was expecting to be chastised by her relations, but volunteered no explanations, despite Mary Margaret’s questioning looks and Ingrid’s grim expression.

After dinner, once the ladies had withdrawn to the parlor, Ingrid broke the apparent embargo on the subject by remarking, “My dear Emma. Leroy said that you and Mr. Cassidy were seen riding in the direction of Rougemont Castle today. Is that true?”

“Leroy has nothing better to do than gossip and ought to learn to mind his own concerns,” Emma retorted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and anger.

“Ah, so you did go, then. I had hoped he was misinformed.”

“Why should you, cousin? There was nothing improper in Neal taking me there.” 

Ingrid did not fail to notice Emma’s informal use of his Christian name, which only increased her concern. “You believe there was no impropriety in going for a ride of ten miles to see a castle in an open carriage with no companion but Mr. Cassidy?”

Emma blushed a little at that. “We didn’t mean to go as far,” she elaborated. “We were just driving about the countryside when Neal noticed that we were close to the road that led to Rougemont Castle, and so we decided to go there on the spur of the moment. And it was well worth the visit. The castle is quite a delightful, and we had a very enjoyable time.”

“I’m afraid,” replied Ingrid dryly, “that the pleasure derived from an activity is no true measure of its propriety.”

Mary Margaret had remained silent throughout the exchange. At this point, she stepped in. “If Emma had known that it was improper, she would not have done it.”

“My dear Mary Margaret,” said Ingrid, turning to her, “if your sister had really believed her conduct to have been proper, she would have told us of her visit the moment she came home.”

Mary Margaret squirmed uncomfortably and glanced at Emma, who was resolutely studying her teacup and did not look up.

Later that night, Mary Margaret advised her sister against repeating the day’s performance. “As mother used to say, Emma, if something one wishes to do feels wrong, that indicates the likelihood of its being wrong.”

“I am not sensible of having done anything wrong.”

Mary Margaret gave her sister a look.

Emma blushed.

“At the very least,” said Mary Margaret, “we need to be careful that Cousin Ingrid is not placed in an awkward position on our account.”

Emma looked a little chastened by her sister’s statement. It was evident that she had not considered the situation in that light. Mary Margaret wondered if Ingrid had been right after all in hoping that Neal would propose marriage to Emma soon. He seemed to be leading her sister into questionable conduct, which would cease to be improper if they were to be married. However, Mary Margaret could make allowances for them. Neal and Emma were much too young and too much in love to observe proper etiquette all the time. Mary Margaret could not find it in herself to make a stronger protest, even as she felt slightly uneasy. After all, she herself struggled against the temptation of writing to David Spencer—a definite impropriety, as they were not blood-related. She wondered if he had met with the inimitable Abigail Midas and sighed disconsolately at the thought.

***

Despite Ingrid’s reservations about the behavior of her young protégée and her admirer, she was invariably warm and pleasant in her manner to Neal and made no objections to his long morning calls. Perhaps as a result of her sister’s advice, Emma did not further test their cousin’s forbearance by sneaking off unannounced, and Neal dined at the Cottage whenever he was free from other engagements. Which happened to be about twice or thrice a week.

Ingrid and Mary Margaret left Emma by herself at Arendell one morning and went to pay some calls. Emma had declined to accompany them in a manner filled with suppressed excitement that plainly indicated that she was expecting a visit from Neal; the other two women were fully prepared to be greeted with the news of their engagement when they returned. However, when they got back to the cottage, they were faced with an entirely different scenario—Emma was in a state of great agitation, while Neal looked distressed and embarrassed.

Ingrid was concerned, and Neal’s evident discomfort sent alarm bells ringing inside her head. Mary Margaret had immediately rushed to her sister’s side to make sure that she was not unwell (the sisters’ deep affection for each other touched Ingrid’s heart and reminded her with a pang of the bond she herself had shared with her sister Helga). As neither Emma nor Neal seemed capable of saying a single word unprompted, Ingrid was about to institute a cautious inquiry into the state of things, when Neal abruptly stood up and announced his departure.

“My dear Mr. Cassidy,” said Ingrid, growing more alarmed by the minute. “Do have tea with us before you leave.”

“No, ma’am. I’m afraid I need to be off right away and I cannot delay even for another minute. I would not have left the county without taking leave of you personally and thanking you for the kindness…”

At this, Emma uttered a choked cry, and fled the room. Neal looked as though he had received a physical blow, and stopped speaking.

“Leaving the county!” cried Mary Margaret. “Isn’t this rather sudden?”

“Well, yes—perhaps. But it’s unavoidable, I’m afraid,” he said, unable to meet her eyes. “Mrs. Gould received urgent summons from her solicitor this morning regarding a long-standing business matter, and needs me to undertake the business on her behalf.” 

“I see,” said Ingrid, feeling a little relieved. “Mrs. Gould must be obliged, of course, though we will all miss you very much while you are gone.”

Neal mumbled something indiscernible in reply.

“When will you return?” asked Mary Margaret.

“As to that, I’m afraid I do not know. The time it might take to finalize the business is uncertain, and I do not know what Mrs. Gould’s plans are for the winter.”

“You know you will always be welcome to stay with us,” said Ingrid, warmly.

“Thank you. You’re so kind,” he replied, looking both touched and troubled at her invitation. “Once the nature of my winter engagements are settled…but now, I must take my leave of you. I will not prolong my distress by staying one more minute among people I’m truly loath to leave.”

And saying thus, Neal practically ran out of the room. Ingrid and Mary Margaret exchanged troubled glances. The latter went to check on Emma, and returned shortly after saying that Emma had wanted to be alone for a while.

“Poor Emma!” said Mary Margaret. “And poor Neal! To be at the beck and call of a relation cannot be pleasant for a young man in his situation.”

Ingrid suppressed a retort at Mary Margaret’s assumption about Belle Gould. She was a young woman and a widow, and the sad reality of their world was that women could get their business dispatched more promptly when it was undertaken by a man. Of course, any person who was responsible for separating lovers, even unintentionally, would seem like a villain to the parties concerned and those that cared for them.

However, Neal’s behavior at the time of his departure concerned Ingrid much more than the fact of his departure. All her doubts and fears regarding his conduct were now heightened ten-fold. Why had he been so ambiguous about his return to their neighborhood? Why the reluctance to accept her invitation to stay at the Cottage? Was he only now considering the practical disadvantages of a marital connection with a portionless woman?

Neal’s private means were not abundant. He owned a small estate, worth at most six or seven hundred a year. His style of living—his frequent visits to watering places, the number of hunters he kept, and so forth, suggested that he lived close to his income. Ingrid suspected that Mrs. Gould made Cassidy an allowance from her own income after her husband’s death. Ingrid did not know the woman very well, but Belle had never seemed like a person who gave peremptory orders—not even to a dependent relation. Neal’s departure may have been precipitated by Mrs. Gould’s business, but the manner of his leave-taking suggested additional motives.

Would a young man in Neal’s position choose to marry an impoverished gentlewoman, or would he try to make a financially more advantageous connection? A gentleman would consider himself honor-bound to marry a woman whom he had been courting so openly, but Neal had already raised her concerns with his imprudent behavior. It suddenly became imperative to know whether or not he and Emma were engaged. She conveyed some of her thoughts and fears to Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret was indignant. “You cannot seriously believe that Neal Cassidy left intending to abandon Emma! He looked absolutely shattered at having to part with her—at having to part with us _all_! We both have seen how much he and Emma are in love—”

“The whole neighborhood has seen that,” interjected Ingrid dryly.

Mary Margaret ignored Ingrid’s interruption. “If they’re not already engaged, it is very likely that they will be once Mr. Cassidy returns.”

“We don’t know when—or _if_ —he will return, let alone whether or not he will ask Emma to marry him.” Mary Margaret made a noise of protest, but Ingrid held up her hand and said, “My dear Mary Margaret. I’m very fond of Mr. Cassidy, but I would be happier if I knew the terms under which he parted with your sister. I’ve seen too much inconsistent behavior and a lack of fidelity in close human relationships over the course of my life to be certain of a positive outcome in such cases. If, in a fortnight, Emma doesn’t receive any letters from him, you have to ask her whether or not she is engaged to him. I am not your mother, and I do not have the right to insist, but this is what I believe your mother would have done. I feel I made an error of judgment in not keeping a closer watch on Mr. Cassidy’s courtship of your sister.”

***

Two weeks went by without Emma getting any letters from Neal, but Mary Margaret put off the dreaded inquiry. In spite of everything, she felt that Ingrid’s suspicions were overblown. Emma clearly missed Neal, but she did not in any way seem desperate—she did not behave as though he had left her without some affirmation of his regard. While the sisters had read poems and stories about broken hearts, and had occasionally heard of broken engagements among their circle of acquaintances, romantic heartbreak had never touched their own lives. Their parents had been deeply in love, and whatever their opinion of their sister-in-law, Robin and Regina did seem very attached to each other. Mary Margaret was of a generally hopeful turn of mind, and her own hopes and wishes regarding David led her to be more optimistic about Emma’s situation than Ingrid’s jaded worldview had perhaps suggested.

Mary Margaret was still young enough to believe in love.

Mary Margaret and Emma left to pay a charitable visit that morning. Their parents had been very active in helping the poor and needy in their neighborhood, and had instilled the same values in their children. Even though their means were now straitened, the sisters were determined to continue on the path their parents had set for them in as far as they were capable of doing so. The family requiring their current assistance was that of a local woodcutter’s family. The woodcutter, Michael Zimmer, had taken a bad fall and broken his leg, and was therefore unable to work. Zimmer had two children: Ava, a girl of twelve, and Nicholas, a boy of ten, who were trying to help out by doing odd jobs here and there. But, of course, they could not earn enough to feed three mouths.

The woodcutter’s cabin was set on the edge of the woods. It was little bigger than a hovel, and was enclosed by a small yard with a goat and some chickens. Ava and Nicholas were tending to the animals. As Emma and Mary Margaret got closer to the dwelling, the children stopped their errand and peered at them curiously.

After introducing themselves, Emma and Mary Margaret handed over a basket of food that Mrs. Patmore had kindly apportioned for the visit, and a bundle containing some clean linen and a few household provisions. The children gratefully accepted the items and went inside the cabin to put them away. A minute later, Ava came out, gave a quick little curtsy, and said, “Miss, papa says that if you would please to step inside.”

One by one, the party entered the dwelling. The room encompassed the length of the cabin. The furnishings were plain but neat. There was a wooden table with four chairs at one end and a cot at the other. A door was set on the far wall, which lead to another smaller room. Zimmer was sitting on the cot, with one leg propped up on a pillow. A wooden splint was tied to the broken leg with scraps of cloth. Michael Zimmer was a stout, hardy man with a deeply tan complexion—a result of his outdoor labors. His eyes crinkled kindly when he smiled, and he attempted to stand on seeing the Miss Blanchards.

“Please don’t get up, Mr. Zimmer,” Mary Margaret was quick to reassure him. “We shall not take it amiss if you do not rise to welcome us.”

They all sat down. Zimmer thanked Emma and Mary Margaret for their kindness. At a look from their father, the children ran outside, chattering excitedly. Zimmer gazed fondly after his children, and said, “They’re good kids. Nicholas takes after his poor mother, while Ava is more like me.”

Emma and Mary Margaret smiled.

A few minutes later, the children came back inside, Ava carefully balancing a jug full of milk in his hand. Nicholas fetched some clean bowls, and everyone was treated to deliciously fresh goat’s milk. After chatting for some time longer, Emma and Mary Margaret left.

“What a loving family! And such sweet children!” Mary Margaret remarked on the walk back to their cottage.

“I wish we could do more to help them,” said Emma. “However hard these people work, it’s a daily struggle for them to keep the wolf from the door.”

Mary Margaret hummed in agreement. “They never make enough to save up when something like this happens.”

“Whose land are they on? Shouldn’t the landowner take some responsibility for the care of his poorer tenants?”

“These woods belong to Sir Arthur Garrigan, I believe, but they are not tenants of his,” said Mary Margaret. “That’s what Mr. Booth told me.”

“They’re squatters?” asked Emma, grimacing.

Her sister replied in the affirmative.

Emma said wryly, “That makes our own lot seem bountiful in comparison, does it not?”

Mary Margaret nodded. Six months ago, neither of them could have foreseen that they would be living in a country cottage far from their childhood home. Her thoughts flew from Locksley to David. It had been three months since she and Emma had left Locksley and moved to Devonshire. In all that time, they had not had much news of David. Robin had written to them twice after their departure from Locksley. In his first letter, he had mentioned that David had left for Bath. In his most recent one, Robin had written that David had left Bath to pay a visit to a former tutor in Cornwall. That, at the very least, reassured Mary Margaret that nothing had come of the great match planned for David by his mother and sister. 

Mary Margaret was jolted back to the present with a start by Emma tugging urgently at her sleeve.

“It’s Neal! He’s back. I knew he’d be back ere long!” she trilled.

Mary Margaret looked to where Emma was pointing, and saw two horsemen clomping down the narrow lane leading to their cottage—a gentleman and his servant by the look of it. She looked harder, and her heart gave a leap of joy. For as they came closer, it was evident that the gentleman was not Neal Cassidy, but David Spencer.

***


	5. Chapter 5

David was welcomed cordially by Mary Margaret and Emma. After the horses had been safely stabled with a trough of water, and Leroy sent off to fetch more hay and grain, the sisters took David inside the cottage. Ingrid, as was her custom, immediately set about making their visitor feel welcome. Mary Margaret thought with some amusement that Ingrid had probably not imagined a stream of suitors lining up at her cottage when she had taken on the role of prime protector of her young cousins.

After the usual enquiries about their mutual relations and the journey, Mary Margaret said, “My brother wrote to us that you were visiting a former tutor. I hope you had a pleasant visit.”

For some reason, David blushed faintly before replying. “Oh, ah. Yes. I did. Thank you.”

His flustered response made Mary Margaret suspect that the visit to the tutor had been merely an excuse to get away from Bath (and perhaps visit her in Devonshire).

After dinner, Ingrid said to David, “Would you be kind enough to read to us, Mr. Spencer? Mary Margaret and Emma have praised your reading so highly, that I’m quite eager to hear a sample.”

“It would be my pleasure, ma’am,” said David. “But I fear Miss Blanchard and Miss Emma have been too kind—I’m no great orator.”

He was offered a choice of books, amongst which was the volume of  _Perrault_ that Emma playfully thrust in his hand. They had brought the book with them from Locksley. Mary Margaret’s eyes automatically sought out David’s. As their eyes locked, the memory of his last reading from that book was almost tangible, and she felt breathless for an instant. After a moment, David dropped his eyes and Mary Margaret bent to her work basket with a blush.

Setting aside the  _Perrault_ , David selected a volume of Wordsworth’s poetry for his reading.

The next morning, David and Mary Margaret rode out together. There was an old side-saddle in Arendell’s small stable—a remnant of the days when Helga used to ride. After Leroy had given it a good polish, they fitted it on the horse David’s servant had ridden. Emma and Ingrid waved them off as the two of them set off on a trot down the valley.

Mary Margaret gave David a mischievous smile. “Race you to the bottom!” she said, and with a “Hiyah!” took off.

As she set her horse galloping down the valley, Mary Margaret felt truly in her element for almost the first time since she and Emma had moved to Arendell. She had missed riding so much!

Laughing, David followed, urging his horse on. Mary Margaret reached the foot of the hill first. 

The first week of David’s visit went by in like manner, with David and Mary Margaret riding out most mornings. After dinner, Emma played music or David read aloud to them. Ingrid occasionally joined the young people in a parlour game.

The following week, David accompanied Mary Margaret and Emma when they left to pay another visit to the Zimmers, to check on the woodcutter’s recovery and take some more provisions. As the group approached the woodcutter’s cottage, the two children ran outside to greet them.

“Miss Emma! Miss Mary Margaret!” they chanted happily, skipping towards them.

Emma and Mary Margaret beamed at them.

Mary Margaret bent down a little, and said “Ava, Nicholas, this is Mr. Spencer. David—Miss Ava and Master Nicholas.”

The children giggled at the solemn introduction and shyly curtsied to David.

David grinned and made them a very proper bow. He handed over the basket of provisions to Ava. As before, they were all invited inside and treated to refreshing goat’s milk.

A sudden frenzied squawking and bleating outside disturbed the tranquil atmosphere within the cottage. They were all taken aback for a moment.

“Check if it’s a fox, Ava,” said Zimmer, sharply.

“It’s after the chickens!” exclaimed Ava, and rushed outside.

Everyone else, with the exception of Zimmer, followed her out the door. The chickens were continuing to squawk like the devil was after them. If there had indeed been a fox, there was no sign of it. However, the wooden enclosure surrounding the goat’s pen had been knocked down, and the animal was taking off into the forest, seemingly frightened into flight. Ava and Nicholas rushed blindly after the animal.

“They’re not going to catch it that way!” exclaimed David. Taking off his coat quickly and handing it to Emma, he took off in pursuit of the runaway animal.

Mary Margaret and Emma exchanged amused looks, not untinged with anxiety. If they did not get the goat safely back, that was one steady source of nourishment for the family gone, and not easily replaceable. As they watched, David swerved and circled around the path taken by the children.

“He’s going to cut them off from the other end!” exclaimed Mary Margaret.

“Hah! Smart thinking!” said Emma. She threw a sideways glance at Mary Margaret. “A Prince Charming who is both handsome and clever.”

Mary Margaret smiled and rolled her eyes.

Zimmer had managed to hobble to the door using a crutch, and peered anxiously at the tree line. After several minutes of suspense, the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs underfoot preceded the return of the rescue party, the errant animal tucked safely under David’s arms.

There was a collective sigh of relief from those who had been left waiting.

“Thank you so much, sir!” said Zimmer, almost sobbing with relief.

“Thank you Mr. Spencer, sir!” echoed little Nicholas, hugging the animal close when David had set it down. The goat bleated and rubbed its head against the boy’s shoulder.

“It was nothing,” said David, smiling down at the little boy and ruffling his head. He then helped the Zimmers secure the animal enclosure by hammering down the wooden poles more securely and adding a few more wooden slats to fix gaps.

As the Blanchards and David walked back to Arendell, Emma teased, “You’re quite the talented farmhand, David!”

David smiled. “I used to spend a lot of time around the farms in our estate growing up. I picked up quite a few tips and tricks from the farmhands.”

“What would your stepmother say?” Emma continued to tease.

David grimaced. “What she doesn’t know…”

Emma laughed, but Mary Margaret grew thoughtful. She had not forgotten the last conversation she had had with David.

“Have you spoken to Lady Spencer about you taking orders?” asked Mary Margaret, when Emma had walked on a little ahead of them and out of earshot.

“I have. She’s as much set against it as my father was.” He grimaced. “The profession is not distinguished enough in her eyes.”

“And you do not want to go against her wishes.” Mary Margaret stated.

David nodded. “I’ve already disappointed her by refusing to go into politics. My stepmother knows there is no chance of persuading Walsh into it either. I don’t wish to hurt her even more by doing something she is so set against,” confessed David. “I would rather wait until I can convince her to agree.”

***

Emma had experienced a sharp stab of disappointment when she first realized who their visitor was, but for the sake of her sister, and for David, she had forced herself to be pleasant. After all, her sister had been separated from the man she loved for a much longer time than herself. Truth be told, however, Emma felt that the strength of the attachment between herself and Neal far outweighed the bond between Mary Margaret and David. What kind of a lover was David, if he could bear to stay away from the object of his affection for so long? However, he had come to visit them at last, and Emma hoped that David would not prove to be as fickle at heart as she sometimes feared.

Over the course of David’s visit, Emma tried to gauge the degree of David’s attachment towards his sister. Toward herself, David’s behavior was that of an affectionate brother, but what he felt for her sister now was a puzzle she was unable to solve. Once or twice, when she had tried to leave David alone with her sister in a room, he had followed her out instead of making use of the opportunity to talk to Mary Margaret alone. And to her chagrin, Mary Margaret did not seem to be offering David any sort of encouragement either. And yet, Emma felt that her sister cared for David as much as ever. This was a strange courtship, indeed. About ten days into David’s visit, she tentatively broached the subject with her sister one night. They were in bed, tucked under the covers, and Mary Margaret was reading her prayer book by candlelight.

“It’s so wonderful to have David staying with us,” said Emma, glancing at her sister.

Mary Margaret agreed without looking up from her book.

“It’s a bit disappointing he has to leave by the end of this week, isn’t it?” Emma probed.

“Lady Spencer expects him to be in London soon.”

Emma snorted. “She’s likely raring to have a second go at matchmaking David with some poor-spirited heiress.”

“Very likely,” said Mary Margaret, turning a page.

Emma sat up in her bed. “Mary Margaret, did you and David have a fight?”

Mary Margaret finally set down her book and turned to look at Emma. “Of course not. Why do you ask?”

Emma gawked at her sister. “Why are you acting so strangely?”

“I am not acting strangely,” said Mary Margaret, pursing her lips.

“Has David proposed to you yet?” asked Emma, hesitantly.

“No,” replied her sister in a whisper.

“David has come on purpose to see you. I’m sure he loves you.” Emma tried to reassure her sister as much as herself.

Mary Margaret did not reply immediately. “Perhaps he does,” she said finally. “But he’s not free to make his own choices. You know that he is completely dependent on his stepmother financially.”

“How can he endure the restraints his stepmother places on him so calmly?” Emma huffed in exasperation.

“It cannot be easy to shake off the habits of a lifetime,” said Mary Margaret. “Lady Spencer brought him up, remember?”

“David is five-and-twenty! Isn’t it time for him to stop being dictated to by her whims?” said Emma. “I’m sure that if Neal was in the same position, he wouldn’t have allowed someone else to control his life.”

“And yet he left for London on account of Mrs. Gould,” Mary Margaret stated flatly.

“He only went because she needed his help with her business affairs,” Emma returned. “Not because he needed hers.”

“Neal has independent means, but David does not,” Mary Margaret replied, sounding a little defensive. “We cannot judge the two men using the same standards.”

The note of finality in her voice kept Emma from pursuing the matter further. In another minute, Mary Margaret wished her good night and blew out her candle.

***

Mary Margaret was thrown into a gloom on David’s departure, but she made a strong effort to keep her feelings of disappointment under check. She had been initially overjoyed to see him, but as his visit progressed, she could not help but notice that his manner—towards her at least—had been more reserved than formerly.  Even when they had gone riding together, he had not talked as much as he used to. Perhaps that was because they had met after a separation of three months. Or had his affections cooled? But if so, why had he come? She had always believed that if two people wanted to be together, they would find a way. But it did not seem like David was doing much of anything to show that he did want her. He had most certainly not declared his affections for her, and Mary Margaret would have despaired of David continuing to return her affections if not for his own obvious lowness of spirits at having to leave them.

Her sister was faring no better than herself in matters of the heart. Emma had received no letter from Neal Cassidy as yet. Mary Margaret’s cautious enquiries to Mrs. Gould regarding Neal had not been satisfactorily answered. She had merely said that Neal was in London, and that as far as she knew, he planned to remain there for the present.

Emma and Mary Margaret were now out of the deep-mourning period, as more than six months had passed since their parents’ deaths. They could therefore mix more in Misthaven society, if they so wished. But the sisters kept to the small social circle frequented by Ingrid, even though they had received dinner invitations from one or two local gentry families. They had no interest in aspiring to society whose style of living was now beyond their reach. The weather had turned very cold and added to their confinement, as long walks on the slopes were unpleasant, even well wrapped-up in shawls. Therefore, when a note arrived from Mrs. Lucas requesting the Miss Blanchards to spend the day at her home on the morrow and give the pleasure of their company to a relative who was coming on a visit, they eagerly accepted her invitation.

Mrs. Lucas greeted the Miss Blanchards warmly on their arrival, and introduced them to her guest, a Miss Kelly West. Kelly West was a distant relative of Mrs. Lucas’s on her husband’s side, so far-removed that the connection could only be safely labeled with the generic term of “cousin”. She was a perky young woman in her mid-twenties with red hair and striking features. Her clothes were well-made but well-worn, and at least two years behind the latest modes of fashion. She lived in Cornwall with her father, and was traveling to London with some friends for the winter. Knowing that she would be passing close to Misthaven on her travels, Miss West had written to Mrs. Lucas and begged leave to pay her a visit. Mrs. Lucas had been agreeable enough, and had sent her carriage to fetch Kelly from the inn where the rest of her party were breaking their journey.

“I thought the cold front was likely keeping you two young ladies indoors, and I know how much Miss Emma hates being cooped up,” Mrs. Lucas said. “So, when Kelly here wrote to me saying that she was coming to visit, I thought it would be a good idea to offer you two a change of scene and get her some pleasant company at the same time.”

Emma and Mary Margaret thanked her for her kindness.

“Oh, ma’am! So very thoughtful of you!” gushed Kelly West. Addressing Mary Margaret, she said, “Isn’t she the kindest woman you’ve ever met, Miss Blanchard?”

Mary Margaret assented to the sentiment.

“I’ve been meaning to pay dear Mrs. Lucas a visit this age—ever since dear Mrs. Whale married and left for London!” Kelly gave a little chuckle. Turning to Mrs. Lucas, she said, “How you must miss her, ma’am!”

“Oh, I keep myself busy,” Mrs. Lucas assured her, pressing her spectacles back to the bridge of her nose.

“You’re wonderful, Mrs. Lucas!” said Kelly West, raising her arms and letting them fall helplessly to her side. “If I’m half as energetic as you when I get to your age, I will consider myself extremely blessed.”

Emma looked a little revolted at such blatant flattery.

“Now, now! I’ll have none of that butter, child,” Mrs. Lucas admonished, with a dismissive wave. “You speak as though I had one foot in the grave!”

Mary Margaret bit her lip to hide a smile as Kelly West spluttered trying to backtrack.

The butler entered with tea and refreshments. Emma, whose tolerance for Kelly West’s pretentiousness ran out with the cucumber sandwiches, moved to the piano. Mrs. Lucas started knitting, the clack-clack of her needles marking a metronome to Emma’s music. Slowly, the needles slackened, and then stopped. Mrs. Lucas had fallen asleep.

Kelly West stared at the older woman for a few moments as though to check if she was really asleep. Turning to Mary Margaret, she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to speak with you in private, and I had no idea how to contrive it!”

“Indeed?” asked Mary Margaret, very surprised, but keeping her voice low to match the other woman’s tone.

“Oh, yes! I’ve been longing to meet you for ages!” Miss West gave a little giggle. “And now that I’ve actually seen you, I can safely say that nothing I’ve been told in your praise was exaggerated.”

“Do we have a mutual acquaintance?”

“You may say that,” said Kelly, and giggled again. “But I dare not tell tales.”

Mary Margaret blinked.

“You see, Miss Blanchard—I want to consult you over a delicate private matter,” said Kelly West.

“Consult me?” asked Mary Margaret, her surprise mounting.

Kelly West took a deep breath. “Would you be good enough to tell me your frank opinion of Lady Spencer?”

“I’ve seen Lady Spencer a few times since my brother’s marriage, and she seemed a very respectable elegant sort of woman.”

“But what do you think of her disposition?” asked Kelly West, in a wheedling tone. “Do you think she is unbending in her opinions or is she the kind of person who might be induced to change her mind on occasion?”

Mary Margaret felt this to be an odd, almost impertinent question to ask of a new acquaintance. She decided to be brief. “I don’t know her ladyship well enough to answer that kind of a question.”

Kelly West sighed. “I’m hoping for an opportunity to be introduced to her ladyship during the course of my visit to London. But I am so apprehensive of meeting her after everything I’ve been told about her formidable personality. I had hoped you might be able to dissipate some of my anxiety.”

Mary Margaret wondered if Miss West intended to ask Lady Spencer for a favor—a loan of money, perhaps, or a recommendation for a post as a lady’s maid or a companion. “I’m sorry I cannot help you with that, Miss West. As I said, I’m not well acquaintance with her ladyship.”

Kelly West gave her a keen glance. “I must seem too forward to be asking such personal questions about your family connections. Believe me, Miss Blanchard, I would not do so if I weren’t desperate.”

“I will not deny that I’m a little surprised by your questions,” said Mary Margaret, with a slight wave of her hand. “May I ask as to the purport of your enquiries? Are you connected to the Spencer family?”

“Not yet, but I hope to be,” said Kelly with a demure smile.

“You don’t mean…” said Mary Margaret, an astonished huff escaping her. “You and Mr. Walsh Spencer…you’re engaged?”

Mary Margaret had met Walsh only once. He had come across as the quintessential dandy. She could not imagine a more disparate pairing.

“Oh, no. Not Mr. Walsh Spencer,” said Kelly West with a tiny laugh. “I’m engaged to David Spencer.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. David Spencer and I are engaged to be married,” repeated Kelly West.

Mary Margaret frowned. Either Miss West was going mad, or she was.

“I’m don’t blame you for your disbelief,” continued Kelly West, folding her hands on her lap. “You see, it’s been a secret engagement, on account of David’s stepmother.”

Mary Margaret shook her head, unable to credit what she had heard. “We cannot be talking of the same person.”

“But we are, I assure you!” Kelly West insisted. “I’m talking of Mr. David Spencer, the eldest son of the late Sir Albert Spencer. His stepsister married your brother, Mr. Blanchard of Locksley.”

“ _Impossible_ _…_ ” the words were wrung out of Mary Margaret, even as she realized that this was the key to David’s ambiguous behavior. The half-started, but unfinished confession on her last day at Locksley. His general air of dejection during his recent visit to Arendell. She had wondered if his regard for her had cooled, or whether an unwillingness to disappoint his stepmother was holding him back. But his secret had been something else entirely. Had he come to Arendell to confess the truth to her, but had lost his courage when it came to the point? She suddenly felt faint.

“Are you alright, Miss Blanchard?” asked Kelly West, the unmistakable glee in her face directly contradicting the concern lacing her voice.

Making a strong effort, Mary Margaret took a few deep breaths and pushed down the agony that was bubbling up within.

“No, no, I feel fine,” she said, a part of her desperately fighting against the conviction that the other woman was speaking the truth.

Kelly West started rummaging within her reticule. “And to prove that I’m not lying, I’ve something to show you,” she said, as though she had heard Mary Margaret’s desperate thought.

“Please, don’t, Miss West,” Mary Margaret protested half-heartedly. Part of her did want to see if she had any evidence to back up her assertions.

“But I insist,” said Kelly West. Giving a sharp exclamation, she pulled two items out of the purse. She displayed the first one to Mary Margaret in the palm of her hand. It was a simple silver ring set with a peridot in the center. “This belonged to David’s mother. He gave it to me on our engagement.” The second item was a locket. She opened it to display two miniature paintings of David and herself, one on either side.

A heavy leaden weight settled in Mary Margaret’s stomach. The probability that Kelly West had been lying about everything was diminishing with each minute. She wanted to get more information to better understand the situation, and Kelly seemed only too willing to talk. Mary Margaret asked, “How long have you been engaged to Mr. Spencer?”

“These four years,” said Kelly West.

Mary Margaret’s eyebrows rose.

“My father was his tutor at Oxford,” Kelly West elaborated, tucking her keepsakes back in her reticule. “After Sir Albert died, poor David used to come stay with us often in Cornwall, and we soon developed an attachment.”

As Kelly West continued to talk, Mary Margaret began to fit the pieces together. It was all too easy to imagine David as a young man of twenty, in a vulnerable state of mind after his father’s death, getting deeply attached to a sympathetic young woman. Especially when her manner was likely to be in sharp contrast with that of his own family. For, despite all the concern Lady Spencer professed for her children, she had never seemed conciliating in her manner toward them.

Placing a hand on Mary Margaret’s arm, Kelly West continued, “I must beg, however, Miss Blanchard, that you do not drop a word of this to anyone, not even to your sister. If even a hint reaches Lady Spencer, that would be the end of all peace!”

“I did not invite your confidence, Miss West,” Mary Margaret said with no small degree of frustration. “However, I will give you my word that I will not speak of your engagement to anyone unless you or Mr. Spencer authorize me to do so.”

“I knew I could rely on your discretion! Poor David has become dispirited of late. He’s weary of not being able to see me for more than once or twice a year, and waiting and hoping for the right time to approach Lady Spencer,” said Kelly West with a sigh. “I’ve borne up better to the outside world than he has. My father taught me that no matter how I felt on the inside, I ought to always put on a good face.”

Struck with a sudden thought, Mary Margaret asked, “Is Mr. Spencer to seek his stepmother’s blessing for your marriage this winter? Is that why you’re going to London?”

“Not quite that as yet, I’m afraid,” said Kelly West, and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “But, ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained’, as they say. And I’m determined not to sit waiting for the apples to fall into my lap.”

“What do you propose to do?”

“I hope to gain an introduction to her ladyship. Once she gets to know me and sees how devoted I am to her son, and how happy David and I make each other, might she not find it in her heart to give us her blessing?”

Mary Margaret shrugged, but said nothing. She very much doubted the possibility of such an outcome.

“You think I’m too naive?” asked Kelly West, giving an affected laugh. Looking watchfully at Mary Margaret, she continued, “Perhaps you think I ought to set David free? That I’m being selfish to hold David to an engagement he formed several years ago?”

“I wouldn’t dream of saying such a thing, Miss West,” Mary Margaret said dryly.

“But you’re thinking it, I know. It’s what anybody is bound to think.” Kelly West dabbed her eyes once again. “I would set David free if I were not assured that he would be extremely unhappy by a rupture. In the four years we have been engaged, he hasn’t given me a moment’s concern about his constancy. I’m of a jealous disposition, Miss Blanchard, and I assure you I would know if David had cooled even a whit in his affection for me.”

“As long as you are confident about that, why should you worry about what other people think?” asked Mary Margaret, growing quite weary of the conversation.

Kelly West shook her head sadly. “Alas! Aren’t we all a little too prone to wish for the approval of other people, however foolish that kind of exercise may be?”

“I agree it is a very common failing, and not one easy to overcome.”

Mary Margaret was mentally exhausted by the time Mrs. Lucas woke up from her nap and put an end to her tête-à-tête.

During dinner, Mary Margaret found it extremely difficult to focus her attention and make normal conversation with the others. She kept mentally replaying the substance of her talk with Kelly West in her mind. She had no doubt now that David had been the one to talk to Miss West about herself in his recent visit to Cornwall. Concerned over his manner of speaking about her, perhaps, Kelly West had contrived a way to come to Misthaven expressly to observe her would-be rival, and perhaps warn her away from her betrothed.

That David had let his secret engagement continue for four years was almost beyond belief! Sir Albert had left the disposal of his fortune in his wife’s hands. This explained the necessity of keeping the engagement under wraps in the beginning, when David had likely not yet attained his majority. But to have let it prolong a secret once he had come of age...Mary Margaret did not know what to think. Was this behind David’s reluctance to take ordination in defiance of his stepmother’s wishes? To go against her known wishes in both the matter of his marriage and profession would be a severe blow to her ladyship, and would likely cause a breach between the two of them.

After dinner, as Mrs. Lucas escorted the Miss Blanchards to her carriage, she invited them to accompany her on a visit to London in December.

“My granddaughter has been very pressing in her letters to have me visit her, and I’ve finally decided to give in,” she said. “I would very much like you both to accompany me. Ruby has particularly begged that I bring the two of you.”

“Emma and I very are very much obliged to you, ma’am, for your kind invitation,” said Mary Margaret, well aware of Kelly West glaring at her over Mrs. Lucas’s shoulders. “But I’m afraid it is out of our power to accept.”

“Nonsense, dear child!” protested Mrs. Lucas. “And if I’m to judge by the looks Miss Emma is giving you— _she_  is not unwilling.”

Mary Margaret looked at Emma questioningly, and the latter looked back at her with sparkling eyes. Exasperated, Mary Margaret turned back to Mrs. Lucas.

“I’m sure Emma knows as well as I do that we cannot leave Misthaven at present,” said Mary Margaret. “We couldn’t possibly leave our cousin.”

“Miss White will manage without you for a couple of months! I couldn’t abide to stay in London longer than that, I assure you! Half that time is typically enough to make me weary of the bustle and noise and stench of the metropolis.”

When Miss Blanchard continued to look hesitant, Mrs. Lucas said, “Well…think it over at least. Consult your cousin. I daresay she’ll agree with me.”

Mary Margaret did not wish to encounter either David or Kelly West any time soon. It would cause her immense pain, and likely add to David’s distress and embarrassment. She was fluctuating between extreme anger at David for raising hopes in herself that he could not fulfill, to feeling sorry for him for having entangled himself in such an improvident manner. She felt embarrassed at the evident insincerity of David’s fiancée. But after all, it had to be torture for a woman to know that after a prolonged engagement with seemingly no end in sight, her betrothed had fallen in love with someone else. For, in spite of all the shattering revelations that Kelly West’s visit to Lucas Park had brought about, Mary Margaret remained convinced that David returned her affections.

It had been very wrong of David to have visited them in Arendell, for even if his heart was not bound to Kelly West any longer, his honor was. Mary Margaret knew she ought to feel angrier over his lapse in judgment in this matter. But she could make allowances for him giving in to the temptation to see her one last time before going to London, where, perhaps, he would put his fortune to the test and open the matter of his engagement to his stepmother.

As Mrs. Lucas had predicted, Ingrid had no objection to her young cousins visiting London for a few weeks. And Emma seemed to have set her heart on going to London. Considering that it had now been a month and a half since Neal had left Misthaven, it was obvious that she hoped to reunite with him there. Whether it was because Neal had communicated his plans to her before he had left Misthaven, or merely on the basis of the information Mrs. Gould had given them was unclear to Mary Margaret. Emma also expressed great astonishment at her sister’s reluctance to take the opportunity to see David again. Mary Margaret knew that Emma suspected her regard for David to be weaker than her own towards Neal, and it pained her exceedingly. Her word to Kelly West had bound her to secrecy, even though she was constantly tempted to confess everything to her sister and get some comfort for her heartache.

When Mrs. Lucas called at Arendell a few days later armed with a letter from Mrs. Whale strongly entreating the Miss Blanchards to accompany her grandmother to London, Mary Margaret gave in to the inevitable. To London, therefore, they were to go.

***


	6. Chapter 6

As a young debutante, Miss Cora Herz had been a recent entrant into gentility. Her father’s fortune had been entirely made from trade. Despite the gentlewoman’s education she received, the taint of her trade origins hung about her. An early marriage to an older, wealthy tradesman had left her a rich young widow with a two-year-old daughter, Regina. The widowed Mrs. Mills managed to attract the attention of a fashionable, though impoverished, society gentleman and widower, Mr. Albert Spencer. Mr. Spencer had a five-year-old son, David, from a previous marriage, and with Cora and her daughter, they blended to form a harmonious family. After the wedding, the new Mrs. Spencer rapidly established herself in high society, culled all her low connections, and was relentless in the pursuit of greater elevation. Mr. Spencer was able to settle all debts on the family estate with the money his wife brought into the marriage, and rose to the honor of knighthood by an address to the king. Even though his indigent circumstances had led Mr. Spencer to marry beneath his station in his second matrimonial venture, it appeared that he had married to advantage after all.

A son was borne of their union, christened Walsh by his parents. Sir Albert and Lady Spencer cherished great aspirations for all their children and trusted that they would make advantageous marriages. Sir Albert in particular had wished for David as the eldest son of the family to distinguish himself by entering politics. However, as David, who was now twenty-five, had not made a single political connection or shown the least bit of inclination in running for parliament, his father’s dream was likely to remain unfulfilled.

Upon the death of Sir Albert (after fifteen odd years of happy marriage), Lady Spencer was seized with a morbid fear of falling back down the social ladder. She kept a strict watch on the kind of society her children were exposed to, even after they came of age. In this, she was assisted by her late husband’s testamentary dispositions. For Sir Albert had been so devoted to his wife, and trusted her judgment so implicitly, even with the fate of his eldest son, that he had left the disposal of their fortune entirely in her hands. Lady Spencer settled twelve thousand pounds on her daughter upon her marriage to Robin Blanchard a year after Sir Albert’s death, but David and Walsh, who were unmarried, remained dependent on her.

Lady Spencer well knew that David’s dearest wish was to enter the church as a profession. But she was dead set against it. She made her wishes known to any of their friends and acquaintances that had the means or opportunity to offer David a church living, and refused to advance money for him to purchase one on his own, hoping that with time, he would come around to her way of thinking. In the meantime, it would have quieted her ambition to see him being the talk of the  _ton_. But David was quite averse to ostentatious displays and left it to his brother to be the dashing young buck about town. Walsh, unlike his older brother, was very fond of fashionable society, drove the latest make in two-horse curricles, and was quite the dandy.

When the news of the deaths of Robin’s father and stepmother had reached her, Lady Spencer had strongly urged her daughter and son-in-law to take early possession of the Blanchard manor. Lady Spencer and Eva Blanchard had not taken to each other the few times they had met, and the former held the younger Miss Blanchards in disdain, scorning their beauty as much as their pitiful portions. Therefore, she had been very much concerned when a letter from her daughter intimated her of the alarming symptoms of attachment between David and one of Regina’s impoverished sisters-in-law. She determined to summon David to Bath at once and distract his mind from the dubious charms of the young Miss Blanchards by introducing him to Abigail Midas, the only daughter of Sir Alexander Midas, an extremely wealthy and well-connected baronet whose acquaintance she had made recently.

Her efforts to bring the two young people together had not met with much success, and so she had made no objection when David left to pay a visit to a former college tutor in Cornwall. She was disconcerted however when he wrote to her some weeks later stating that he was leaving on a visit to Misthaven and would join her in London mid-November. The hold of the Blanchard girls over David was stronger than she had suspected. While Lady Spencer was fond of her stepson, she was by no means blind in her affection for him, and would not approve of an alliance so imprudent as to fortune and connections. She had sent him a reply reminding him of his obligations to his family, his duty to herself, and strongly hinting at his dependence on her generosity. When David showed up in London as promised, she was glad to find him still single, albeit more subdued than usual. She presumed that her veiled threats had been an effectual deterrent from making a foolish engagement, and decided to renew her efforts to promote a match between him and Miss Midas. David would recover his spirits soon enough.

***

Mrs. Lucas and the Miss Blanchards reached London early on a foggy December morning. Emma eagerly peered through the frosted-up glass pane of the carriage window to catch a glimpse of the passing streets. Even though dawn was just breaking, the streets were already busy with bakers stacking trays of bread onto delivery carts, vendors hawking meat and fruit, and night-watchmen swinging their rattles as they completed their final patrols of the night, their warm breaths misting the cold air. An old woman in a street-corner was dispensing steaming hot bowls of salop to chimney-sweeps just setting off to work and young blades straggling home from their all-night revelries. Even through the sheepskin-padded interior of the carriage, Emma could feel the cold seeping through, chilling her bones, the hot coals that had been packed within the brass footwarmers having cooled hours ago. The rattle of the carriage as they turned into Harley street woke her sleeping companions from their slumber.

Mary Margaret stretched, rubbing her eyes. “Are we there?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

“I think we are,” Emma replied.

The carriage pulled up in front of the Whale residence. Perhaps alerted by the noise of the carriage wheels, the front doors were thrown open and after a few minutes, Dr. and Mrs. Whale stepped out of the door to welcome their guests.

Ruby ran down the front steps to the carriage door and helped her grandmother down.

“Granny! I’m so happy you’re here!” she exclaimed, embracing the older woman. “I’ve missed you so much!”

Dr. Whale handed Emma and Mary Margaret down from the carriage.

“Welcome, Miss Blanchard, Miss Emma. Ruby and I are very pleased to have you with us.”

“Yes, indeed! You are both very welcome to our home,” said Ruby, turning to Emma and Mary Margaret, pressing their hands warmly and ushering them inside the house. “And how is Miss White? She’s in good health, I hope?”

“She is very well, thank you, and sends her kindest regards to you and Dr. Whale,” Mary Margaret replied.

Ruby led Emma and Mary Margaret to the suite of rooms that had been prepared for them upstairs, consisting of a bedroom with two canopied beds and an adjoining dressing room with a tin bathtub tucked behind a folding-screen, and asked them to come down to breakfast as soon as they had freshened up a little. The girls took off their travel coats and bonnets as the maid brought in pitchers of hot water and set them beside the wash-basins in the room. Getting rid of most of the travel-grime from their faces, necks, and arms with a good scrubbing, Emma and Mary Margaret went downstairs.

The Whales’ residence was a four-storey brick building with Palladian windows on the outside. The interior was tastefully and comfortably furnished, with a preponderance of reds and purples lending a rich tone to the decor. A comfortable fire was burning in the compact Rumford fireplace in the breakfast parlor where Mrs. Lucas and Ruby were talking when Emma and Mary Margaret joined them.

Over a leisurely breakfast consisting of bread and butter, eggs, rolls, plumb cake, coffee, and hot chocolate, Mrs. Lucas caught up her granddaughter on the latest news and scandals from Misthaven. After relating the more commonplace news items such as the Ellis’s housemaid having eloped with the dancing master, and Mr. Clark’s son being apprenticed to an apothecary in Storybrooke, she went on to relate the sentencing of a poacher to death by hanging in the solemn undertone suitable for that kind of news.

“Oh, how horrible!” Ruby exclaimed, “It’s Sir Arthur doing, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Lucas nodded. “Dr. Hopper tried to talk him out of it, but you know how he is. He wouldn’t listen, and was apparently quite heavy-handed about it.”

“Cousin Ingrid said Sir Arthur almost always sentences poachers to hanging,” said Emma. “Why would anyone take the risk knowing that?”

“That’s normally been enough to dissuade poaching in Misthaven,” Mrs. Lucas replied. “But, it’s shaping up to be a very cold winter, and when people get desperate, they take foolish risks.”

“I wish there was a way to prevent this sort of extreme sentencing in Misthaven,” said Emma.

“Sir Arthur is the magistrate of the county, my dear. What can anyone do?” Mrs. Lucas made a helpless gesture.

“Perhaps if the principal landowners in the county represented to Sir Arthur that there are other ways one could deal with the problem of poaching,” said Mary Margaret, “he might be willing to reconsider…”

Ruby shook her head. “Sir Arthur is rather unbending when it comes to legal matters.”

“Besides,” added Mrs. Lucas, “most of the landowners in the village don’t wish to stop him. They feel safer knowing that the threat of hanging keeps poaching to a minimum in their properties.”

There was a general pause. Mrs. Lucas broke the silence with, “Do you know where the Baitses are put up? I shall call on them tomorrow.”

Ruby mentioned the name of the street. “I’ll come with you, Granny. I want to invite them to our next dinner party. They had us over last week.”

Emma pressed Mary Margaret’s hand under the table. Mary Margaret looked at her sister enquiringly. Emma mouthed the word “Neal” surreptitiously and glanced towards Ruby. Catching on, Mary Margaret turned to Ruby and asked, “Do you know if Mr. Cassidy is in town?”

“I haven’t seen him, but then, we don’t mix in the same circles.” Ruby looked apologetic.

“Don’t you worry, Miss Emma,” said Mrs. Lucas, adjusting her spectacles. “The minute he knows you’re here, he’ll be sure to fly over to see you.”

“We need to pay a visit to our brother and sister-in-law,” said Mary Margaret, trying to shield her sister from particularity. “They’ve secured lodgings in Grosvenor Street for the winter.”

“The carriage is at your disposal, Miss Blanchard,” said Ruby. “But you must be very tired from your journey. Why don’t you take rest and go tomorrow. We can drop you on our way to the Baiteses.”

“Aye, that would be best,” said Mrs. Lucas, and yawned. She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Send word to your brother that you’re here. They won’t take it amiss. I own I’m very tired myself. I’m going to go up to my room and rest my aching bones for a little while.”

Mrs. Lucas went up to her room, and Emma and Mary Margaret followed. The latter sat down to write a brief message to their brother informing him of their arrival in London. Once she had finished and sealed her letter, she got up to ring the bell for the footman, when her sister stopped her.

“Wait, I have a letter that needs to be sent as well,” said Emma, sitting down at the writing table. “Once I’m done, I’ll have them both sent out.”

“Oh, good. Are you writing to Cousin Ingrid?”

“No,” said Emma, avoiding her sister’s eye and taking out a fresh sheet of paper.

“Are you writing to Neal?” Mary Margaret asked, looking confused. “If you know he’s in London, why did you want me to ask Mrs. Whale?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure,” said Emma. She dipped her pen in the inkwell and started to write. “But I know he always puts up at Grillon’s Hotel in Albemarle Street when he’s in London.”

“If you’re writing to him, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, “Does this mean you and Neal are…?”

“Don’t ask me anything right now,” said Emma, her voice tight. Then, she looked up at her sister and added in a gentler voice, “Please.”

For a few moments, Mary Margaret wondered if Emma and Neal were secretly engaged like David and Kelly West. But if that was the case, why didn’t Emma know with certainty whether or not Neal was in London? As far as Mary Margaret knew, they had no necessity to hide their engagement. There were no relations on either side who would voice objections to a match between the two of them. Mary Margaret hesitated a little, wondering if she should press her sister for answers, then decided to let the subject drop for the nonce.

***

To Emma’s and Mary Margaret’s surprise, Robin stopped at Harley Street later that day in order to see his sisters and pay his respects to their hosts. There had been another private reason for his calling on them so soon after receiving Mary Margaret’s note. Regina had sent him to Harley Street for the express purpose of ascertaining whether his sisters’ acquaintance with the Whales was likely to cause any awkwardness to themselves by association. However, the elegance of the furnishings at the Whales’ residence and the fashionable appearance and manners of Mrs. Whale soon settled Robin’s qualms.

“Regina was very disappointed at being unable to come with me to call on you today, but she had some urgent matters to attend to,” said Robin, as he sat down in a chair across from his sisters.

His sisters very much doubted the veracity of that statement, but assured their brother that they did not take offense and promised to call on their sister-in-law on the morrow.

“How is Miss White treating you? Is she kind? Is the cottage comfortable?” Robin asked, when Ruby had quit the room, leaving the Blanchards to catch up in private.

Emma and Mary Margaret spoke highly of Ingrid and Arendell.

Robin leaned back in his chair and smiled benignly at his sisters. Gesturing at the door through which Ruby had walked out, he said “I do not have to ask if the neighborhood is satisfactory, if Mrs. Lucas and Mrs. Whale are any indication.”

His sisters assented to her brother’s surmise, adding that Mrs. Lucas and Ruby had been very kind and welcoming.

“I’m delighted that you have found such good friends in Misthaven,” said Robin. He seemed as much relieved as pleased that his sisters were comfortably settled under someone else’s care, both at Misthaven, and in London.

The next morning, Emma and Mary Margaret went to Grosvenor Street as promised. Regina greeted her sisters-in-law politely, if not too warmly. As they seemed to have acquired the goodwill and chaperonage of wealthy people of fashion, their presence in London was not likely to embarrass her and Robin socially, nor inconvenience her personally. There was some danger in Mary Margaret and David meeting again, but she could hardly have her brother sent away from London. And perhaps, if David saw Mary Margaret and Abigail Midas together, he would be better able to appreciate the charms and merits of the latter.

The nursemaid brought the children into the room. Roland was very excited to see his aunts again, especially Mary Margaret, and stuck to her side like a limpet until the visit ended, first demanding that she read him a story, and then importuning her to play a game with him. Baby Margot, who was now a year old, crawled about the room, making excited squeals whenever she found something interesting to put into her mouth. Emma chased after her niece, catching her and rubbing her face against her little tummy, making Margot giggle madly, and then letting her go to start the game all over again.

Before they left, Regina invited her sisters-in-law to a formal dinner-party to be held at their home that week.

“My dear, I think we should invite Mrs. Lucas and the Whales to the dinner. They are a fine set of people and their acquaintance will be well worth cultivating,” said Robin, ponderously. “Besides, I feel it is our duty to show them how very much we appreciate their kind attentions to my sisters.”

“Oh, Robin!” Regina threw an exasperated look at her husband. “If we invite three new acquaintances to the dinner, we won’t be able to pay as much attention to the Midases. And it’s such a special favor whenever Sir Alexander dines out at all!”

Robin looked a little contrite. “Sorry, my dear. You are right, of course. We will invite the others next time.”

Regina conceded.

“Between the Midases and the Spencers, this dinner is going to be quite the Comedy of Errors,” Emma said to her sister on their carriage ride back to Harley Street.

“I doubt any of us are going to be laughing at the end of it,” Mary Margaret replied.

“David will be there. At least that will be a relief!”

Mary Margaret merely nodded. There was no way she could confide in her sister how far from being relieved she was at the thought of seeing David again. She was rather dreading it. She had no idea whether or not he was aware that she knew of his secret engagement, and was afraid to get a confirmation of it in his looks and manner.

Ruby had engaged her seamstress to come around to Harley Street early the following morning, and that worthy lady and her assistants were tasked with altering Emma’s and Mary Margaret’s day and evening gowns to suit the current modes of fashion. The sisters had decided against purchasing any new clothes for themselves, but no young lady wishes to appear a frump in comparison to the scores of elegantly dressed women in London for the Season. Later that morning, they went with Ruby to purchase all the indispensable accessories of fashion such as ribbons, silk stockings, trimmings for bonnets and shoes, parasols, and the like. After their day’s excursion, the ladies returned home considerably lighter in the purse, tired-out, and the carriage laden with their parcels.

On entering the house, Emma eagerly questioned the butler as to whether any letters had arrived for her when they’d been gone. On receiving a negative, she returned a disappointed “Oh!” and trooped upstairs to her room.

When Mary Margaret followed her sister to their rooms a few minutes later, she found Emma in their dressing room taking the pins off her bonnet. Mary Margaret paused at the door and studied her sister’s profile. Emma’s lips were turned down in a frown and her eyes looked dull.

Mary Margaret walked up to stand behind Emma. “Have you heard from Neal yet?” she asked, as she helped Emma take off her pelisse.

Emma’s eyes met hers on the mirror. “You know I haven’t.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes softened. “I’m sure you’ll hear from him soon.”

Emma nodded and bent down to pick up a stray hairpin from the floor, avoiding her sister’s gaze.

***

Mrs. Lucas’s carriage conveyed Emma and Mary Margaret to their brother’s residence on the evening of the dinner-party. A footman escorted them to a large well-lit drawing room where Robin, Regina, Lady Spencer, and Walsh Spencer were assembled. Their brother and sister-in-law rose to receive them. Emma and Mary Margaret curtsied to Lady Spencer and Walsh politely. Lady Spencer acknowledged their greeting with a tilt of her head. Walsh, who had been standing by the mantel, came forward and executed a very theatrical bow and then sat down by his mother. Seated together, mother and son could not provide a greater contrast to each other. Lady Spencer was dressed in a rich gown of scarlet silk with a fine gold embroidery pattern. A string of pearls adorned her neck, complimented with pearl drop earrings. A crimson-dyed ostrich feather was affixed to a turban on her head. Her dress was cut in the old-fashioned style with a natural waistline instead of the high-waist that was the prevalent trend in fashion. Rather than making her look like a behind-the-times dowd, it gave her a regal air as she sat with her back upright, fanning herself delicately with a Chinese fan.

Walsh Spencer on the other hand looked the part of the quintessential Regency dandy much lampooned in newspaper cartoons. He was a tall young man with brown hair and eyes, a bit on the reedy side. He wore a pinched waistcoat, lace-cuffed shirt, high starched collars, and an elaborately arranged neck-cloth that made it a question of wonder that he was able to turn his neck at all. A gold fob and several chains hung about his person, reflecting the light of the numerous lit beeswax candles in the room. A lock of his hair was swept-up high over his forehead. It would not be an exaggeration to surmise that he spent hours in his dressing room, perfecting his getup. Self-satisfaction radiated from his countenance as he peered at the Miss Blanchards through a quizzing-glass.

“I hope your ladyship is in good health,” said Mary Margaret, addressing Lady Spencer.

“I’m well, thank you,” replied Lady Spencer. “Regina tells me that you two live in a cottage in Devonshire with a cousin.”

“Yes, your ladyship,” Mary Margaret replied.

Lady Spencer’s gaze lingered on Mary Margaret for a few moments, and then giving a slight nod, she turned away and went back to fanning herself.

“There is nothing I like better than a cottage,” Walsh declared, taking up the subject. “I’m determined to settle down in the country in a snug little cottage with modern and elegant furnishings on the inside.”

“Something tells me you’d be back in London at the end of the first quarter, Mr. Walsh,” said Emma, with a smile. “I suspect you’d find country-life a little too quiet for your taste.”

“Ah! Emma has your measure, Walsh.” Robin gave a little snort of laughter. Catching his wife’s eye, he turned it into a cough.

Walsh gave a jovial laugh. “You misjudge me, Miss Emma. There’s nothing I prefer more than the peace and quiet of the countryside in the summer.”

The drawing room door opened, and the footman ushered David Spencer into the room. Mary Margaret’s heart skipped a beat. As he caught sight of her, Mary Margaret thought that she could detect a start of surprise. Had he not known that she and Emma were in town? She wondered if her presence in London was unwelcome to him, and that thought saddened her.

“There you are, David!” said Regina, with evident relief. “We were quite worried that Sir Alexander and Miss Midas would get here before you did!”

David excused himself on the plea of getting caught behind a string of slow-moving carriages. He greeted his stepmother with a kiss to her cheek and then bowed to the Miss Blanchards before sitting down.

“I thought you’d finally taken a toss in that dog-cart of yours,” said Walsh, with a scornful laugh.

“No, Walsh,” said David, turning to his brother and giving him a half-smile, “my ‘dog-cart’ as you call it, is still in one piece, as am I. But I thank you for your concern.”

“You’re welcome, brother,” returned Walsh, with a sardonic smile.

“Is there something wrong with the vehicle?” Mary Margaret asked. She could not help the concern lacing her voice.

“It’s perfectly fine, I assure you,” David replied, giving her an earnest look. “My brother’s disdain is for my choice of vehicle. He refuses to drive anything as lowly as a gig.”

“I do think you ought to get a phaeton or at least a curricle, David,” Regina interjected. “Hardly any gentleman of fashion drives a gig these days. Why, I saw the young Earl of Grantham driving about in very smart-looking curricle near Hyde Park the other day.”

“I must say I detest open carriages of any sort,” Lady Spencer declared. “I prefer to be driven safely and comfortably with no drafts coming in through the window panes and hot bricks under my feet. But David, I really do think your affectation against fashion is getting rather tiresome.”

Walsh scoffed. “I’m surprised he doesn’t wear a wig and powder his hair.”

“Unlike you, brother, I’m not contending for the title of ‘coxcomb of the year’,” David returned. “But even I draw the line at powdered wigs.”

“Robin and I are thinking of setting-up a barouche-landau next summer,” said Regina. “Or perhaps a landaulette. They both have folding tops that can be let down in good weather.”

“Miss Emma,” said Walsh, addressing her. “What would be your choice of carriage? I dare say curricles are your favorite kind?”

“I do like curricles,” conceded Emma. “However, if I had the choice, the high-phaeton would be mine.”

“Ah! The High-Flyer—the Prince Regent’s favorite. Although, I hear Prinny’s getting a little too pear-shaped to climb on with ease,” said Walsh and snickered.

“I wouldn’t drive anything the Prince approved of,” said Regina with a sniff.

“I’d hardly endorse the Prince Regent’s way of life,” Emma replied. “But even a stopped watch is correct twice a day.”

Walsh laughed. Mary Margaret could not help smiling at her sister’s whip-sharp responses.

The drawing room was thrown open. “Sir Alexander Midas and Miss Midas,” the footman announced.

Emma shot a concerned look at her sister. Mary Margaret pressed Emma’s hand reassuringly and looked with interest at the young lady who had been set up as her rival by David’s family. Abigail Midas was a tall fashionably dressed young woman, with an air of careless elegance about her. Mary Margaret didn’t know how she might have reacted to the other young lady’s presence if she had not met Kelly West and heard her confession. But she had, and that spared her from feeling a whit of insecurity or envy. Regina and Robin were quite assiduous in their attentions to the young lady, while Lady Spencer exerted herself so far as to try and charm Sir Alexander with her conversation. It was plain that the scheme to match David Spencer with Miss Midas was still on. Mary Margaret could almost pity Regina and her mother for the disappointment that was in store for them.

As everyone filed out of the drawing room into the dining room, Emma whispered to Mary Margaret, “We’ve only just arrived, and already I can’t wait to leave.”

The seating at dinner was arranged in a very formal style, with little place-cards directing people to specific seats. David, of course, had a seat assigned next to Miss Midas. Dinner seemed an interminable affair. The dishes were numerous, and the conversation ponderous and banal. More than two hours had elapsed by the time the dessert course ended. As Regina stood up to lead the ladies back to the drawing room, Mary Margaret was trying very hard to suppress a yawn.

When the men returned to the drawing room, Robin requested Emma for some music, adding, “I quite miss hearing you practicing away every morning on your pianoforte, Emma!”

Regina’s lips tightened. Politeness required that she echo her husband’s request, but she did it with ill grace. “Yes, dear. We would love to hear you play.”

Emma declined at first, but when Walsh added his entreaty, she gave in. Regina’s frown as she glanced between Emma and Walsh told its own story. Perhaps she was wondering if she ought to have her younger brother shipped off to Bath.

Once Emma finished her song, Regina earnestly begged Miss Midas to play, adding, “Ever since we heard you play at Mother’s dinner party the other week, we’ve been in raptures over it, haven’t we David?”

David, who had been in the middle of a conversation with someone else, had to have her remark repeated to him. He assented, though not with the degree of enthusiasm his sister expected.

Miss Midas’s performance was praised and, of course, she was begged to play another piece. After her second song was concluded, Lady Spencer addressed Mary Margaret, “You don’t play the piano, do you, dear?”

“No, your ladyship,” Mary Margaret replied.

Lady Spencer began fanning herself. “Do you sing or play the harp?”

“Neither, ma’am.”

“You poor child,” said Lady Spencer, with a look of pity. Her waving hand stopped. “Your education seems to have been so neglected! What was your mother thinking?”

Mary Margaret’s face flushed with anger and mortification. Emma looked too angry to speak.

Lady Spencer opened her mouth to speak again, when David interjected, “Miss Blanchard is an excellent horsewoman and an accomplished archer.” There were twin spots of color on his cheeks, whether from anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell.

Lady Spencer did not look pleased at her stepson’s interruption. “What an odd set of accomplishments for a young lady to possess,” she said with a disdainful smile and started fanning herself again.

“I envy you, Miss Blanchard,” Miss Midas remarked. “I had a riding accident when I was ten, and I’ve been terrified of horses ever since! My father is still in despair over it.”

“I stable twenty horses solely for riding and hunting, but my poor Abigail’s too afraid to try riding one of them.” Sir Alexander chuckled and gave his daughter an affectionate glance.

The smug expression slipped from Lady Spencer’s face.

Robin, who looked ashamed at his mother-in-law’s ill-bred behavior, for once decided to step-in. “My sister also does very fine needlework.” Turning to his wife, he said, “My dear, where is that embroidered shawl Mary Margaret brought you for a Christmas present?”

Regina reluctantly retrieved the shawl. It was passed around and admired. True, Lady Spencer barely glanced at it before immediately handing it to her neighbor, but the rest of the party did not stint in their praise.

On their way home, Emma did not hold back on expressing her anger and indignation at Lady Spencer’s ill-mannered attack on her sister.

“If she thinks for one moment, that this kind of treatment will make David blind to your merits and fall in love with that Midas creature, she must be mad!” Emma pressed her sister’s hand affectionately. “I was never more pleased with David than when he spoke up.”

Mary Margaret could only sigh. Far from being pleased at David’s support of herself, it had only caused her pain. The only reason she was at the receiving end of Lady Spencer’s efforts to undermine her was because she and Regina perceived her as a threat to David’s future. If they knew the truth about David’s engagement to Kelly West, she would cease to be the main target of their disdain.

“I was quite surprised when Robin stepped in,” said Mary Margaret, wishing to direct Emma’s thoughts away from David. “This is the first time I’ve heard him say anything to contradict his mother-in-law.”

Emma snorted. “Very likely. At least that shows he still has a heart.”

Mary Margaret huffed out a laugh. “I suspect he really isn’t half as indifferent to us as he wishes he could be,” she stated over the rattle of the carriage as it wended its way homeward.

***

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I would love to hear your thoughts. :-) 

Don’t forget to check-out @captainswanandclintasha‘s gorgeous pic-set for chapters 5 and 6 on tumblr!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks yet again to my wonderful betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt. Please don’t forget to check-out @captainswanandclintasha‘s lovely pic-sets of the earlier chapters on tumblr!

It was now mid-December, and two weeks since Emma and Mary Margaret had come to London. Ruby, as a kind gesture to her guests, invited Robin and Regina to dine at Harley Street. Neither she nor Mrs. Lucas had any knowledge of the tensions that subsisted between the Miss Blanchards and their relations. Emma would have protested against the invitation had she been present at the time the idea had been bandied about, but she had gone out for a walk, and only Mary Margaret had been consulted. “It’s not like we can avoid Robin and Regina forever,” was Mary Margaret’s reply when Emma expressed her annoyance.

Emma had indeed gone for a walk as mentioned, but there had been more to her outing than either her sister or her hosts knew. She had been getting more and more restless as each day passed without bringing any tidings about Neal. Deciding to do some further investigating on her own, Emma had walked two streets over and hailed a hackney coach to take her to Grillon’s Hotel. Upon inquiry, she found that Neal was not currently put up there. Leaving him a note with the desk manager just in case, Emma returned weary and disappointed. Perhaps Neal had gone back to his estate in Somersetshire. Ought she to send him a letter there?

Emma did not doubt that Neal loved her. He had looked devastated at having to leave. Besides, had he not shown how deeply he cared for her by every word, look, and gesture? Emma blushed recalling the precious memories. Perhaps her error had been in not writing to him before she had left Devonshire. Mrs. Lucas had only planned on staying in London until the end of January. What if Neal didn’t return to London before they’d all gone back to Misthaven? It wasn’t as though Emma could expect Robin and Regina to issue an invitation for her to stay with them at Grosvenor Street. Or that she’d want to stay with them, even if they invited her. Emma tried to console herself that, at the worst, if she did fail to meet with Neal in London during the course of her visit, it wasn’t as though she would never see him again. He would come to Misthaven once he had settled his affairs.

It was with no great degree of enthusiasm that Emma went upstairs to dress for dinner on the evening her brother and his wife were coming to dine at Harley Street. She decided on a pale cream chiffon dress with ruffles around the border. She wasn’t particularly fond of the outfit, but hadn’t felt like wearing anything else either. A set of pearl earrings were her one concession to ornamentation. Mary Margaret had put on a pretty yellow satin gown with lace trimmings. They entered the drawing room arm-in-arm. Ruby sat beside her husband, dressed in a rich red net overdress worn over red silk that accentuated her elegant figure and harmonized with the purples and golds in the room.

Kelly West, who had been invited to the dinner, was already there and fawning over Mrs. Lucas. Emma thought she caught a look of cold hostility in Kelly’s eyes as the latter glanced at Mary Margaret. But the look was fleeting, and Emma wasn’t sure if she had just imagined it. For, what reason could Miss West have to dislike her sister? She had called at Harley Street a couple of times in the last two weeks. Emma had gotten the impression that she was angling for an invitation to stay with the Whales.

Captain Jones was the next of the guests to arrive. He greeted his hosts and made a general bow to the rest of the party. He looked somewhat grim and there were dark circles under his eyes. Though his gaze lingered on Emma, he did not address her directly, for which she was thankful. She could not help feeling unjustly resentful at seeing him before she had been able to catch a glimpse of Neal in London.

Dr. Whale went to the window. A few snowflakes were starting to fall. “We shall certainly have a white Christmas this year,” he observed.

“We should go to Vauxhall Gardens on Christmas Eve, my love,” said Ruby. “I hear the fireworks display they put on last Christmas was spectacular.”

“Will you and your sister be returning to Misthaven after Christmas, Miss Blanchard?” Kelly West enquired sweetly of Mary Margaret.

“After Christmas? Why, their visit here has just begun!” declared Ruby, with a laugh. “In fact, I would as lief keep Granny and the Miss Blanchards here until summer, if I have my way!”

“Bless me! That you shall not,” cried Mrs. Lucas. “I haven’t changed my opinion of London in the last two weeks!”

“Don’t tell me you dislike staying with us, Granny,” Ruby pouted.

“You know it’s all the noise and the smoke that I detest.” Throwing a wink at Emma, Mrs. Lucas added in an undertone, “But don’t you fret, Miss Emma—we won’t leave until a certain someone comes to call, eh?”

Emma’s face reddened. Captain Jones cast a curious gaze in her direction.

The Robin Blanchards arrived at last. Regina had an air of offended dignity about her as she greeted her sisters-in-law—the sort of look people get when they know they’ve been acting wrong and have been made to look foolish on account of it. Robin, on the other hand, seemed pleased to be present and greeted his sisters affably. On being introduced to Captain Jones, he seemed quite struck on learning that the gentleman was the owner of an estate in Misthaven. For the remainder of the evening, he made overtures of friendship to the captain, which were indifferently received. Not, perhaps, from any pointed disinclination towards making Robin’s acquaintance, but from preoccupation with other matters.

At dinner, Emma once again found herself sitting by Captain Jones, and this time she felt that he had deliberately contrived it. She did not find that thought appealing. She rebuffed any attempts at conversation from him, confining herself to the requests and phrases that dining etiquette required. She noticed him giving an almost imperceptible wince or two as he carved the meat dish in front of him, and wondered if his old injury had flared up.

“Is there good sport to be had at your estate, Mr. Blanchard?” Dr. Whale asked Robin when the first course had been set out and everyone had received helpings of the rump roast, the pigeon pie, the boiled potatoes, the roasted asparagus, and the scalloped oysters.

“We had decent grouse and pheasant shooting in September and October this year,” Robin replied, “but the weather has been too severe for fox-hunting.”

For some time, the conversation continued along the same vein, with discussions on the best modes and seasons for shooting different kinds of game birds and animals. Emma was intrigued to hear Ruby talk of hounds and horses as well as any of the men.

“Do you hunt, Mrs. Whale?” she asked.

Ruby assented.

“My Ruby is one of the best hunters in the county,” Mrs. Lucas announced proudly. “If the winter wasn’t so bad, I would drag her back to Misthaven with me to take care of the fox problem at Lucas Park.”

After a brief lull, Regina was heard to say, “My husband and I are thinking of engaging the services of a landscaper at Locksley this summer.”

“A landscaper?” said Mary Margaret, pausing with a forkful of pie part-way to her mouth. “I didn’t know you were planning alterations at such a grand scale.”

Regina gave an affected laugh. “That place needs a good deal of modernization. Why, the very approach to the house needs broadening.”

Emma had known that with Locksley passing to Robin there would be several changes to the estate, but it did not make it any easier to hear them talked of so casually. She felt completely in sympathy with Neal as she recollected how indignant he had been about all the alterations Captain Jones had undertaken at the Abbey after the death of Robert Gould.

“Captain Jones has done quite a number of improvements at Misthaven Abbey in the past few years.” Mrs. Lucas stated, as if on cue. “Mr. Blanchard, I suggest you consult someone who’s done this sort of thing before a professional who’ll charge heaven and earth for it!”

“I would be glad to hear your ideas, Captain,” said Robin, gesturing at the man in question.

“I haven’t done too much in the way of ornamentation on the Abbey building itself,” the captain replied. “It’s mostly been repair-work on manor houses and clearing off brush to make more farmland.”

“Is the soil thereabouts good for farming crops?” Robin enquired. “Locksley grounds are best suited to grow berries and fruit trees.”

“Misthaven soil is very fertile. All manner of crops and fruit trees thrive in it,” said Mrs. Lucas, eager to establish the superiority of Devonshire over other counties.

“What kind of fruit do you cultivate in your estate, Mr. Blanchard?” Ruby asked.

“We have some fine strawberry and blueberry beds and a grove of Bramley apples,” he replied.

“And we’re planting Ribston Pippin apple trees in early spring,” Regina added.

“I’m very fond of apples,” Kelly West gushed. “And Ribston Pippins are my favorite variety, by far.”

Emma bent to her plate and rolled her eyes. Apparently, Mrs. Lucas wasn’t the only person Kelly West considered worth flattering.

“Is it, dear?” said Regina, with a complacent smile. “That variety is sweet as honey and has a crisp bite like a pear, quite superior to the Bramleys on the estate.”

“Are the Bramleys to be cut down, then?” Emma asked, surprised. The Bramley orchard at Locksley had been planted in their grandfather’s time, and consistently yielded a fruitful crop that was sold to the market. Emma did not think either Robin or Regina would do something so imprudent as to give up a steady source of profit.

“Oh, no. The old avenue by the pond is coming down to make way for the apple orchard.”

Emma’s ire rose. She glanced across the table at Mary Margaret and saw a similar look on her sister’s face. It was well that they had moved from Locksley, Emma thought. Neither of them could have borne seeing the old trees coming down in favor of apples, however sweet and crisp the fruit may turn out to be.

They were served iced fruits glacés among other things during the dessert course. Regina was casting envious looks at the variety of ices molded and colored to look like the fruits and flowers their flavors were derived from. Emma wondered, not without some amusement, if an ice-house would be added to Locksley along with other sweeping “improvements”.

Ruby had planned for cards after dinner, knowing her grandmother’s fondness for the game. Captain Jones, Kelly West, and Emma were assigned to Mrs. Lucas’s whist table, while the others gathered to play a round game.

“Are you ever planning to go back to Misthaven, Captain?” Mrs. Lucas addressed the captain, once the game got going. “You’ve not stepped foot in that place for nigh on three months now.”

“My plans are unsettled just now, Mrs. Lucas,” he replied, tossing a card on the table. “I daresay I shall go back soon enough.”

“There are other kinds of diversions to be had in the country besides bloodsport, you know?” Mrs. Lucas added in a lower tone, with a sly look between Emma and the captain. “You’d better keep that in mind, Captain, or other men will catch all the pretty young things who go tumbling down hills and spraining ankles.”

Emma blushed.

“Ooh, who was your gallant rescuer, Miss Emma?” Kelly West glanced between Mrs. Lucas and Emma. “I’m dying to know!”

“There was no rescue,” said Emma crossly. Sometimes, Mrs. Lucas really was the limit!

“Miss Emma looks ready to bite my head off,” said Mrs. Lucas with an arch look. She leant towards Kelly West and said in a  _sotto voce_. “All I will say is that his name begins with a ‘C’.”

Captain Jones sucked in a sharp breath. After a moment, he muttered in an undertone, “That’s not the kind of ‘gallant’ activity I’d expect from  _that_ gentleman.”

Emma whipped her head around, her eyebrows climbing high. There was an angry scowl on the captain’s face. On becoming aware of Emma’s observation, he rearranged his expression into something more neutral, but there remained a dark cloud on his brows. The other two did not seem to have heard his remark, and Mrs. Lucas moved on to other topics.

When one round of whist was over, the four of them gathered around the second card table, where a raucous game of speculation was still going on. Kelly West stood by Regina’s shoulder and cried out her approval whenever she won a bid. After watching the play for some moments, Emma went up to the piano to look over some new sheet music Ruby had acquired. Captain Jones followed her after a minute. Emma was exasperated. She expected him to say something about Neal, but he confined his remarks to the music. After a brief internal struggle, she began in a low voice, “What did you mean by your earlier remark?”

The captain studied her face for a moment. “You mean about Mr. Cassidy? I take it he was the gentleman the good lady was referring to?” Captain Jones jerked his head in the direction of Mrs. Lucas, who was loudly cheering Ruby on at that moment. Emma flushed, but nodded. His expression hardened. “I meant what I said. ‘Rescuing’ gentlewomen from falls is not the kind of chivalrous behavior Mr. Cassidy typically indulges in. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Emma’s eyes widened on realizing the full import of his words. “That’s quite the accusation you make there, Captain.”

“I am well aware of that.” Captain Jones swept his hand in a gesture of acknowledgment.

“May I ask, what is the basis of your remark?”

His jaw clenched. “I’m not at liberty to speak plainly on the matter.”

Emma gave a twisted smile. “How convenient.”

Captain Jones narrowed his eyes. He leaned towards Emma slightly. “The tone of your remarks urges me in good conscience to warn you against trusting the gentleman in question.”

“Whom should I trust instead?  _You?_ ” said Emma, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Please don’t pretend to be an unbiased well-wisher.”

Captain Jones pressed his lips together, “Whatever I might feel towards you, I assure you they have no bearing on my statement.”

Emma was taken aback.  _Whatever he might feel? Was he pretending_ _…_ Twitching that thought aside, she flung out, “I know of your history with the first Mrs. Gould, and of  _your_ unchivalrous treatment of her. Why should I trust anything you say against a person intimately connected with that family?”

Captain Jones reddened and he clenched his fists. For an instant, Emma was afraid she had pushed him too far. But after a few moments, he let out a slow breath and regained control of himself.

"Whatever story you think you know, my dear Miss Emma," he gritted out, his eyes glinting, "is most certainly wrong.”

“Oh, so Mrs. Gould did not die of a broken heart when you abandoned her?” she asked sarcastically.

“That’s the story Cassidy’s coward of a father passed on to him, is it?” Captain Jones sneered, still speaking at a lower register. “In truth, Robert Gould murdered Milah in cold blood because she fell in love with me.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “And you know this because…”

“He boasted to me that he’d done it,” Captain Jones returned, his nostrils flaring.

They stared at each other, breathing hard. A loud clapping broke out at the card table. Emma jumped, startled. The card game had ended, with Ruby emerging as the undisputed winner. Expelling a sharp breath, Emma abruptly turned away from Captain Jones without ceremony and joined her sister. She could not believe his audacity in imputing immoral behavior to Neal without adding a particle of evidence to support his statement. And that story about Robert Gould murdering Milah sounded far-fetched. People didn’t go around murdering their wives because they had an extramarital affair. If that was the case, a quarter of the nobility of the country would be dead, starting with Princess Caroline. If Captain Jones had imagined that she would be flattered by his mention of a partiality for her, he was going be sorely disappointed. Would he have stayed away from Misthaven for so long if he truly harbored such a preference for her? Emma saw through his artifice and pointedly avoided him for the rest of the evening. She merely nodded when he came to take leave of her, a troubled expression in his eyes.

***

Christmas came and went under a blanket of heavy snow, curtailing most of the outdoor activities and entertainment, including the proposed outing to Vauxhall. The sun finally came out two days into the new year, though it seemed but a weak, wintry substitute of the original. Dozens of hired hands descended into the wealthier neighborhoods, shoveling snow from the roads and pavements and loading them into carts to be dumped into the Thames. The next day continued to be clear of snow or the threat of it. Ruby’s suggestion that they all go to Hyde Park for a little airing was enthusiastically received. Mrs. Lucas stayed home, but the Whales and the Miss Blanchards set out, well wrapped in thick winter coats and mufflers, and feet shod in woolen socks and sturdy boots. The whole of London seemed to have hit upon the same notion. A string of carriages were stalled in the road leading up to Hyde Park, and Emma was impatiently jiggling her legs by the time they reached the entrance.

The Whales had many acquaintances in London, and they frequently stopped to chat with somebody or the other. At first, Emma and Mary Margaret walked with them, but growing impatient of the slow progress, they drew apart and walked on, promising to meet the Whales in half an hour’s time on the bank of the Serpentine River.

“I didn’t think London would be so dreary in the winter,” Emma remarked, after a short silence. “We’ve barely stirred out in days!”

“We wouldn’t be any better off in the country. By all accounts, there’s been a great deal of snow in Devonshire as well,” said Mary Margaret.

“I suppose so,” Emma said. As though struck by another thought, she added, “The roads are probably impassable with the amount of snow that’s fallen.”

Mary Margaret was at no loss to understand her sister’s train of thought. “Emma…” she began, after a short pause. “I know you don’t like me bringing up the subject, but I feel I ought to. Are you sure Neal is coming to London?”

Emma gave a sigh of frustration. “I don’t know,” she finally confessed, when Mary Margaret continued to look at her in concern.

“Then, why did you want to come to London?” Mary Margaret stopped walking and touched Emma’s arm.

Emma made no reply but kept walking. Mary Margaret gave an audible sigh and followed after her sister. They walked about for some time and gradually meandered towards the bank of the Serpentine. On spotting the Whales, they joined them. Together, they stood watching the many fashionably attired young men, and even a few women, who were skating on the frozen surface of the river. Some were attempting complicated figures, with varying degrees of success. Others were cruising in straight lines and curves, blowing kisses to their sweethearts who were standing on the riverbank. A gallant young man was escorting a timid young lady across the icy surface, their eyes only for each other. Several children were taking their first lessons in skating from their doting fathers, their mothers hovering anxiously nearby.

“Remember how we used to go sledding during Christmas-time when we were children?” Mary Margaret said to Emma.

Emma gave a small smile. “Yes. And Mama wouldn’t let us go for a whole year when I fell off the sled that one time and sprained my ankle.”

The sisters laughed at the remembrance. When their teeth started chattering from the cold, they all started back towards the carriages, Emma and Mary Margaret walking a little ways ahead of Ruby and Dr. Whale, who had stopped to talk to someone.

Suddenly, Emma gripped her sister’s arm. “It’s Neal…” she whispered.

“What? Where?” Mary Margaret looked around, and then she too spotted him.

Neal Cassidy was standing by a curricle, his back to them. But there was no mistaking his identity.

“Neal!” Emma called out in an eager voice. On hearing his name, Neal turned. When he saw Emma and Mary Margaret, he visibly blanched. In her eagerness to talk to him, Emma pressed forward and held out her hand for him to shake.

Neal neither moved nor took Emma’s hand. There was a look of frozen dismay on his face that filled Mary Margaret with a sense of dread. Why was he behaving in such an odd manner?

“Neal!” said Emma once again. She gave a bemused smile. “Are you not going to shake hands?”

Seemingly recovering himself with an effort, Neal bowed ceremoniously, still ignoring Emma’s proffered hand. “Good evening, Miss Emma, Miss Blanchard.”

Mary Margaret stepped up to Emma’s side, who was starting to look pale, and placed a protective hand on her arm.

“Neal…” Emma whispered. Her lower lip wobbled.

Neal’s eyes darted about; he placed a hand on the curricle, and then withdrew it quickly. He looked ready to bolt. Just then, a fashionably dressed young woman joined them and tucked her hand into Neal’s arm. She was tall, but not lanky and wore a long fur-lined coat. A richly patterned shawl was wrapped about her shoulders. Her skin was darker than the typical English countenance. The woman stared at Emma and Mary Margaret for a second, before turning to Neal and saying, “Neal, won’t you introduce me to your friends?”

Her voice, as she spoke, was that of a well-bred English woman.

“Of course,” Neal replied, giving a ghastly smile. Nodding at Emma and Mary Margaret, he said, “Miss Blanchard, Miss Emma Blanchard, may I present to you Miss Lambe, my fiancée?”

Mary Margaret felt Emma sway in her grip. Uncaring of how discourteous she might appear, Mary Margaret quickly excused herself and led her sister away from the spot and sat her down on a nearby park bench. Emma’s state was of more concern to her at the moment. Mary Margaret rummaged through her reticule and pulled out a bottle of smelling salts. Opening the stopper, she held it to her sister’s nose. Emma took a gasping breath and blinked a few times. Mary Margaret set down the bottle and peered at her sister. She still looked pale but not as though she was going to faint again.

“Mary Margaret…” Emma whispered, looking stricken.

Mary Margaret felt her eyes prickling with tears. She passed her arm around her sister’s shoulder and held her tight.

They were rejoined by a very concerned-looking Ruby and Dr. Whale. On noticing Emma’s wan appearance, Ruby proposed leaving at once.

“Do you think you can walk to the carriage, Emmy?” Mary Margaret asked gently, using Emma’s childhood nickname.

Emma pressed her lips together and nodded. Mary Margaret could tell she was trying hard to not burst into tears.

When they reached home, Emma immediately ran upstairs. After assuring Ruby that she would let her know if Emma needed anything and thanking her for her kindness, Mary Margaret followed her sister to their room. 

Emma was lying lay face-down on her bed. She was not crying, and did not acknowledge Mary Margaret’s presence when she plumped down next to her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mary Margaret asked after some minutes of silence.

Emma shook her head.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Emma shook her head once more.

Mary Margaret scooted down the bed and lay down beside her sister. She gently smoothed-down Emma’s hair and started to sing a lullaby their mother used to sing to them when they were children. Tears started leaking from Emma’s eyes. Soon, she was sobbing her heart out. Mary Margaret pulled her to her chest and tried to sooth her as well as she could. She herself was feeling pretty miserable. The last thing she had imagined was for her sister to end up with a broken heart just like herself. Despite Mary Margaret’s occasional misgivings over Neal Cassidy’s long silence, she had not expected to find him engaged to another woman. When Emma eventually fell into an exhausted sleep, Mary Margaret went downstairs and joined Mrs. Lucas and Ruby in the drawing room.

“Is Emma feeling better?” Ruby asked, in a concerned voice. “Would you like Victor to take a look at her?”

“Thank you, Ruby, but I do not think that will be necessary.” Mary Margaret hesitated, unsure of what to say. “Emma’s sleeping now. I think she’ll be better after some rest.”

“I hope she hasn’t caught a chill,” said Mrs. Lucas. “It’s not always a good idea to go out in the cold after sitting at home for days on end!”

Ruby looked at Mary Margaret intently for a few moments. Then, she said, “Victor and I saw you both talking to Mr. Cassidy. Who was that woman with him?”

Mary Margaret judged it best to tell them the truth. It was bound to come out sooner than later. “His fiancée, a Miss Lambe.”

Ruby sucked in a sharp breath. Mary Margaret was relieved that she did not have to explain any further. Mrs. Lucas’s frequent teasing of Emma over Neal Cassidy had likely left Ruby in little doubt of the implications of that revelation.

“That no-good, rotten scoundrel!” Mrs. Lucas burst out. “After paying court to Miss Emma all summer, he’s gone and got himself engaged to someone else, has he?”

Ruby gave a disbelieving shake of the head. “He always seemed so charming and had such agreeable manners.”

“Charming is as charming does,” Mrs. Lucas declared. “Cassidy will feel the pointy end of an arrow at his backside if he ever dares to show his face at Lucas Park.”

“Ruby, do you know who Miss Lambe is?” Mary Margaret asked, when Mrs. Lucas had finished her tirade.

“I’ve seen her at one or two public assemblies, but at none of the  _ton_ parties.” Ruby spread open her hands. “I’ve heard she’s from the West Indies. I can ask Victor to find out more when he goes to his club.”

Mrs. Lucas hummed. “Well...if this girl is one of those West Indian heiresses, Cassidy’s only marrying her for her money, I’ll wager my life on it. Got into debt as likely as not, and found a quick way to settle everything.”

“I’ll ask Ellen to prepare a tray for Emma in a little while,” said Ruby, after a brief pause. “I don’t suppose she’ll want to come down for dinner.”

“Thank you. That would be best, I think.” Mary Margaret felt truly grateful for Ruby’s kindness.

Mary Margaret went down to breakfast alone the next morning. Emma had woken up complaining of a headache, which was not surprising considering the shock she had had. Besides, she had only eaten some thin gruel the night before, refusing everything else. After finishing her own breakfast, Mary Margaret took up a tray for Emma.

“How long are you going to stay in this room, Emma?” asked Mary Margaret, handing her the tray and plopping down on the bed.

Emma grimaced. “I don’t think I can bear Mrs. Lucas’s inquisitive probing or Ruby’s pitying looks right now.”

“Mrs. Lucas only means to be kind.” Mary Margaret tried to reassure her. She added, “Dr. Whale is going to make enquiries about Miss Lambe.”

“Does it really matter who Miss Lambe is?”  Emma tore off a piece of bread with more force than necessary and started buttering it. “It’s only food for gossip for people like Mrs. Lucas. She’ll be spreading the story with embellishments all over Misthaven once we get back.”

“Perhaps she will. But people will move on to some other piece of news in a few weeks’ time,” said Mary Margaret. “I’m sure you’re not the first person who’s had a broken engagement in Misthaven.”

Emma set down the butter knife and turned to look at Mary Margaret. “Neal and I were not actually engaged.”

Mary Margaret looked troubled. “But you wrote to him. I was never sure until then, but when I saw you writing to him more than once, I assumed…”

Emma bent down to her tray once more, not meeting Mary Margaret’s eyes. “I suppose I just assumed that we were. I trusted him, and made a bigger fool of myself than I thought was possible.”

Mary Margaret let out a sharp breath. She was silent for several minutes. The one thing that provided her a small modicum of comfort in the matter of David’s secret engagement was her conviction that David had not meant to lead her astray. Over the course of their dinner at Grosvenor Street, Mary Margaret had seen nothing in David’s behavior that led her to believe otherwise. He may have unexpectedly developed a partiality for her, but he had not meant to trifle with her, of that she felt sure. Mary Margaret could not help wondering if Neal Cassidy had fallen into a similar trap. Thinking to comfort her sister, Mary Margaret said, “Well at least Neal didn’t break faith with you. That would have been much worse.”

Emma turned to stare at her sister, disbelief and betrayal plain on her face. “He implied with every word and deed that he loved me, that he envisaged a future with me. You think he is not blamable because he didn’t actually bind himself to me with a promise?”

Mary Margaret held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not saying that he isn’t to blame—quite the contrary! But, perhaps he was led away by the force of his feelings for you and didn’t realize that you had fallen in love with him until it was too late.”

“Too late for what? To avoid committing himself?”

“I only meant…”

“He kissed me,” said Emma bluntly.

_“What?”_

“You heard what I said,” said Emma, looking at her sister steadily.

“When?” said Mary Margaret in a horrified whisper.

“The day we went to Rougemont Castle. I suppose that’s when I started thinking we were as good as engaged.”

“Oh,  _Emma_ …” Mary Margaret was stricken.

Emma set down her tray, and said, “I would like to be alone for now.”

Mary Margaret hesitated.

“Please…” said Emma, her voice wavering at the brink of tears.

Mary Margaret nodded and left the room. In her haste to comfort her sister, she had spoken thoughtlessly. Emma’s revelation of the liberties Neal had taken made Mary Margaret feel angry and repulsed. This made it unlikely that he had not acted by design. Had he intended to merely trifle with Emma all the time? How had they all been so deceived in his character? To be sure, Cousin Ingrid had expressed her reservations against Neal, but Mary Margaret felt that the news of Neal’s engagement would still come as a shock to her. Even Mrs. Lucas, who knew Neal the longest among them, had been surprised. Mary Margaret was deeply disturbed. She hoped that Dr. Whale might be able to find some information to throw light upon the matter.

Ruby called Mary Margaret down to the parlor later that afternoon. Mrs. Lucas was in the room, knitting.

“Victor’s been to his club this morning,” Ruby began. “He’s found some information about Miss Lambe. I thought it best to tell you first.”

“Yes?” Mary Margaret questioned eagerly.

“Miss Lambe’s grandfather, a Mr. Pinney, was originally from Bristol, though he lived in Jamaica for a long time. He owned a sugar plantation there.”

Mary Margaret sucked in a sharp breath. A sugar plantation owner in Jamaica automatically meant that he had employed slaves. “Does that mean Miss Lambe’s grandmother…” She could not complete the sentence.

“She wasn’t a slave, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Ruby grimaced.

“Those plantation owners have no heart,” Mrs. Lucas said, gesturing with her needle to drive home her point. “I’ve not had sugar in my house in years. Honey’s good enough for me, and for anybody who visits me.”

Ruby continued. “I believe she was a nanny at Mr. Pinney’s household. When she had a daughter by him, Mr. Pinney brought up the little girl along with his legitimate son and gave her a proper English education. And when she’d come of age, he got her married to his estate manager. Miss Lambe was their only child.”

“Are the parents not alive?” Mrs. Lucas asked.

Ruby shook her head. “They died of yellow fever last year. That’s when Mr. Pinney decided to wind up his affairs in Jamaica. He sold his plantation and came back with his son, his son’s family, and his granddaughter. Apparently, he died soon after his return to England.”

“How did Mr. Pinney leave his money?” Mrs. Lucas asked, going to the crux of the matter.

“His son inherited the bulk of his property, which I believe amounted to three hundred thousand pounds. But he left his granddaughter a legacy of fifty thousand pounds.”

There was a silence as the women processed this information. With such a large settlement, it was difficult to see Neal’s engagement as anything but mercenary. Mary Margaret wondered if there was some truth to Mrs. Lucas’s surmise that Neal had gotten himself into debt. Not that it would excuse any of his actions, but it might explain them.

Mrs. Lucas finally said. “Well…I pity the lass. I hope Cassidy does right by her. But I rather doubt it.”

Mary Margaret went upstairs and recounted the information to Emma. Emma listened silently, and once she had finished, nodded her head in acknowledgment.

“Emma…” Mary Margaret said hesitantly. “I’m sorry for what I said this morning. I know that was a foolish thing to say.”

Emma raised her eyes to her sister’s. “Are you sorry because I told you that Neal had kissed me, or because you now think he’s marrying Miss Lambe for her money?”

“Emma…”

“I know you mean well, Mary Margaret, but you don’t understand.” Emma bit her lip. “You  _can_ _’t_ understand, when you have David’s love.”

Mary Margaret felt a pang in her heart. She gave a twisted smile. “Perhaps I’m starting to realize that love alone is not enough.”

“Oh yes,” Emma sneered. “You’ll also need to wait for David to grow a backbone and stand up to his stepmother.”

 _“Emma!”_ Tears stung Mary Margaret’s eyes.

Emma’s face immediately crumpled. “Oh, Mary Margaret! I’m so sorry.”

Mary Margaret brushed off her tears and stood up. “I’m going downstairs to check the post—it’s about the time Cousin Ingrid would’ve written to us,” she said and dashed out of the room, pained by the way Emma had lashed out at her in her anger.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos. Please check-out @captainswanandclintasha‘s gorgeous pic-set for chapters 7 and 8

A week had passed since the ill-omened visit to Hyde Park and Emma remained under a cloud of misery. Thankfully, even though Mrs. Lucas and the Whales were solicitous in their behavior to her, they did not mention Neal Cassidy by name in her presence, for which Emma was profoundly thankful, and suspected Mary Margaret’s hand behind it. She had apologized to her sister for her unkind comment about David, but there still remained an air of constraint between them. Emma continued to feel that Mary Margaret could not relate to her pain. Even if David needed time to work up the courage to stand up to his stepmother, he would do it at some point sooner than later. But as for herself, there was nothing left to hope for.

Indeed, Emma did not even wish for a reversal. Neal had raised false hopes of marriage in her, left her in silence and suspense for months together, and in the meantime, had gained the affections of another woman. Perhaps he had fallen in love with Miss Lambe, but Emma was skeptical, even though she felt a little ashamed for thinking so. She could not help wondering time and again whether Neal would have proposed marriage to Miss Lambe if she had not been an heiress. By the same token, would Neal have proposed marriage to herself if her income had been a larger one? Were his actions motivated by mercenary concerns? Emma could not answer any of these questions satisfactorily. However, of one thing she was certain. If Neal broke his engagement to Miss Lambe this very minute and begged her to marry him, she would not consent.

Emma could not help recollecting Captain Jones’s warning against trusting Neal. Since he had not given her any reasons for it, she had discounted them. He was likely crowing in the triumph of his better judgment over hers right now. In a sober moment of reflection, Emma admitted to herself that she had then not wanted to believe the captain. It had been easier to question his character and motives rather than acknowledge that he might be right about Neal. Emma had wanted to hold on to the conviction that Neal loved her, just as she loved him, in spite of his long silence. In reality, his inclination for her had been too weak to last over time and distance. If he had ever truly cared for her, that was.

Finishing up a letter she had been writing to Ingrid, Emma went downstairs to join Mary Margaret at the breakfast parlor. As she neared the room, she heard the sound of voices from within. Ruby and Mrs. Lucas had gone to pay some calls that morning, and as far as she knew, had not yet returned. Wondering who the visitor was, Emma opened the door and stepped in.

Kelly West and Mary Margaret sat facing each other on a sofa, one wearing a peevish look, and the other a frustrated one.

“If you don’t think your sister-in-law invited me because she is really fond of me,” Miss West said petulantly, “you are very much mistaken.”

Emma shut the door behind her a little noisily in order to announce her presence.

The other two in the room whipped their heads around. Mary Margaret’s shoulders relaxed visibly on catching sight of Emma. Kelly West glared at Emma for a moment before plastering a self-satisfied smile on her face.

“I hope you are well, Miss Emma,” she said. Without giving Emma a chance to reply, Kelly West gushed, “I was just informing your sister that Mrs. Blanchard has kindly invited me to stay with her at Grosvenor Street.”

“Indeed…that is…nice,” Emma finished, feebly, directing a questioning look at her sister. Mary Margaret grimaced.

“It is wonderful.” Kelly West clasped her hands together. “The children are such precious little things, aren’t they? I own, I quite dote upon them already. Mrs. Blanchard quite laughs at me about it.”

Emma had forgotten how tiresome she found the other woman’s style of conversation.

“How long you and your sister have been staying with Dr. and Mrs. Whale, Miss Blanchard!” Kelly West continued, directing her remark at Mary Margaret. “I had a notion you would stay for some time with your brother’s family. But I suppose they did not invite you.”

“You’re quite right, Miss West,” Mary Margaret replied calmly. “Our sister-in-law knows we would not trespass on her hospitality.”

Kelly West pressed her lips together.

The door opened and David was ushered into the room. Emma almost gave an audible sigh of relief on seeing him. She hoped his arrival would precipitate Kelly West’s exit. David’s glance swept the room and he visibly faltered for a moment. However, he stepped forward and made a sweeping bow.

Mary Margaret and Emma rose to greet him.

“It is so good to see you, David.” Emma pressed his hands warmly. Turning to Kelly West, she added. “Do you know Miss West?”

“Ah…yes, we are acquainted,” said David, bowing again.

Kelly West gave him a demure smile.

“It’s been such ages since you called on us, David” said Emma, once the enquiries after their mutual relations and Christmas festivities were over. “Why, we haven’t see you once since Christmas!”

“I’ve been visiting friends out of town.” David made a helpless gesture. “The snowstorm delayed my return.”

“You went out of town?” Emma gave him an admonishing look. “When so many of your friends are in London!”

David smiled ruefully. “It was a prior engagement I could not get out of.”

“Old engagements ought to make way for new ones when there are such friends to be met!” Emma glanced between David and her sister with a playful smile.

Mary Margaret coughed. David cleared his throat.

“Perhaps you think all gentlemen are apt to treat their promises frivolously, Miss Emma,” Kelly West cut in.

“Oh, I know how scrupulous David is over keeping his word.” Emma smiled fondly at David, completely missing Kelly West’s intended jibe. “Perhaps a little too much so, at times.”

David shot up from his seat.

“Leaving so soon?” Emma shot a quick glance at Mary Margaret, who remained silent.

“Yes. I have a few errands at Pall Mall.”

“If you’re going via Grosvenor Street, Mr. Spencer, would you be so good as to accompany me?” Kelly West enquired, rising as well.

Taking leave of Mary Margaret and Emma, David and Kelly West exited the room, the latter holding on to David’s arm rather more tightly than necessary, in Emma’s opinion.

Emma turned to her sister. “Why didn’t you say anything to David?” Mary Margaret’s continued reluctance to give any kind of overt encouragement to David confused her very much.

“I did speak to him.”

Emma huffed in frustration. “Well...nothing that meant anything.”

Mary Margaret arched her brows.

“Couldn’t you see David wasn’t feeling comfortable to talk freely in front of Miss West?” Emma continued, “Poor David, now he’s stuck with her all the way to Grosvenor Street.”

“I didn’t think David needed encouragement to talk to us.” Mary Margaret replied.

“Sometimes, I do not understand you at all, Mary Margaret!” said Emma, shaking her head.

***

There was heavy rainfall in the next couple of days, melting the huge piles of snow and effectively trapping people within their houses. The street outside was flooded, but due to the fortuitous circumstance of the Whales’ house having been built on a raised foundation, water did not enter the house. The gloomy light filtering through the window curtains added to Emma’s sense of oppression as she sat listening to the occasional peals of thunder. When the rains had stopped and the streets were somewhat more passable, Emma and Mary Margaret received a note from Robin. Mary Margaret opened it, read it through, and handed it to Emma, looking in equal measure relieved and guilty. Curious, Emma took the note and quickly skimmed it.

_Dear Mary Margaret and Emma,_

_I have some very strange news to relate. Prepare yourselves for a surprise: Regina_ _’s brother David is engaged to Miss Kelly West. Indeed, it has come to our knowledge that they have been secretly engaged for four years. This has been very distressing to Regina and Lady Spencer, as you may imagine. I will call on you to discuss the matter further in a day or so._

_Yours,_

_Robin_

Emma gave an involuntary giggle. “Is this some kind of jest?” she asked, and shot a half-amused smile at Mary Margaret. Her smile slipped on noticing the grave look on Mary Margaret’s face. Emma’s heart stopped for a moment. Was the whole world split into knaves and fools?

“Mary Margaret…can this really be true?” Emma paused. “Did you have prior knowledge of this?”

Mary Margaret took a deep breath and looked at her sister steadily. “In short, Emma, yes.”

“How long have you known?” Emma demanded.

Mary Margaret gave her sister a rundown of her conversation with Kelly West back in November.

“So, you’ve known about this for weeks and weeks, and you didn’t tell me?” asked Emma, in an accusing voice. She was feeling angry and betrayed both at David and her sister for different reasons.

“I wanted to Emma, very much,” Mary Margaret said, squeezing Emma’s arm briefly. “But Miss West extracted a promise from me that I was not to reveal her secret to anybody.”

Emma gave her sister a long and hard look. “Is this why you were so quick to jump in Neal’s defense when we found he was engaged to Miss Lambe? You were thinking of David, were you not?”

Mary Margaret bowed her head in acquiescence.

“I think we’ve been deceived in both of their true characters.” Emma’s expression hardened. “And David paid a visit to Misthaven with this hanging over him! I did not think he could be so dishonorable.”

“Now, I must defend David from that charge,” said Mary Margaret, putting up her hand. “I do not believe he was acting by design. When he realized that he had raised expectations in me that he could not fulfill, he became more reserved in his manner. You and I talked of this at the time, don’t you remember?”

“Well…if you can excuse his conduct that easily, I have nothing more to say.” Emma pursed her lips.

Mary Margaret reddened. “I know you think my love for David is not strong or passionate like yours for Neal Cassidy because I can speak so calmly about the situation. But I’ve carried the pain within my heart for weeks, Emma! Without being able to confide in you even when I most needed comfort.” She blinked away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. “In my heart of hearts, I have the conviction that David loves me, not Miss West. But the only way for us to be together is if he behaves dishonorably by her, and that’s not something I could abide.”

Emma immediately felt remorseful. She had once again wounded her sister by her thoughtlessness. Tears filled her eyes and she reached forward to comfort her sister, but Mary Margaret withdrew apace, her tears starting to fall freely. She sniffled and continued, “To add to all this, I’ve borne the taunts and insults of Regina and her mother, because they thought that I was bent on entrapping David into marriage. I was placed in this invidious position through no fault of mine.”

Emma immediately scooted closer to her sister and embraced her. “I’m sorry, Mary Margaret. I’m so sorry,” she cried. Mary Margaret rested her face in her sister’s shoulder and took a few shuddering breaths.

After some moments, Mary Margaret sat up and gave her sister a watery smile. “I’m sorry for what I said about Neal. You were correct in surmising that I was thinking of David,” she confessed.

“And I’m sorry for not noticing the burden you’ve been carrying all this time,” said Emma, her lips trembling a little. “I’ve been too selfishly blind.”

“No, Emma, you have not,” said Mary Margaret, pressing her sister’s hand. “How could you have known?”

Emma gave a small smile.

“I wonder if David opened the matter to his stepmother or…” Mary Margaret trailed off, deep in thought.

Struck with a sudden thought, Emma giggled. Mary Margaret looked at her enquiringly. Emma grinned and said, “I just realized that Kelly West must have been staying at Grosvenor Street when all this came out. I wish I had been present at that denouement!”

Mary Margaret smiled reluctantly. “Well…in all probability Miss West is no longer Regina’s guest.”

“Oh, I agree. Regina would have gotten rid of her the minute she learned the truth.” Emma laughed again. “I can’t help suspecting that Regina only invited Kelly West to stay as a slight to you, Mary Margaret. This is poetic justice, indeed!”

“Whatever the cause, Miss West did find a foothold in David’s family.” Mary Margaret countered. “I can’t help wondering if she will not succeed in winning over Lady Spencer and Regina with her flattery eventually.”

Emma scoffed. “That is extremely unlikely.”

Mary Margaret did not look convinced.

***

Now that she was aware of Mary Margaret’s secret at last, Emma was able to recognize how much her sister’s spirits were affected in spite of her evident determination to stay strong. Emma tried to make amends for her former blindness by making more of an effort to mingle with her hosts, and not letting Mary Margaret bear the brunt of their curiosity regarding herself.

Robin Blanchard called at Harley Street a couple of days later as promised. He looked so unlike his usual calm self, that Emma was genuinely concerned. “Are you ill, Robin? Are Regina and the children alright?” she enquired.

“I’m quite well, thank you. And so are the children,” said Robin, and slumped down on a chair. “But Regina’s spirits are greatly affected. It has been quite the shock, you know.”

“A shock? You mean…” began Emma.

“Yes. This engagement of David’s to Miss West.” Robin shook his head. “Everything has been at sixes and sevens ever since we found out. None of the family knew of it—not even Walsh. It appears David concealed it from everybody.”

Emma forbore to point out that a _clandestine_ engagement was predicated upon the idea of concealment. Wanting to satisfy her and Mary Margaret’s curiosity over one point, she asked, “How did you find out about the engagement?

“Miss West told Regina,” said Robin. “She’s been staying with us, you know, and making herself very agreeable to Regina—running all sorts of errands, playing with the children, and has been altogether quite assiduous in her attentions. I suppose she thought Regina would be quite pleased when she found out and would speak up in her favor to Lady Spencer.”

Emma gave an involuntary laugh. “As if _that_ was likely!”

Robin shot her a look. “You could hardly expect Regina to take the news in her stride, Emma.”

“I suppose not,” Emma conceded. “So, how did Regina react?”

“It was pandemonium at first.” Robin gave a slight shudder. “Regina kept insisting that Miss West be turned out of the house immediately. But with the streets flooded, that was out of the question!”

Emma bit her lip hard to keep from bursting out in laughter.

“At that, Miss West started crying and screaming hysterically. If not for the nursemaid coming in at that point to heIp, I simply couldn't have coped.”

“Dear Edith,” Mary Margaret said, irrelevantly, and smiled fondly.

Emma leaned forward a little in her seat. “And then what happened?”

“Regina finally agreed to let Miss West stay until the roads were safe enough to travel, but she insisted that Miss West be moved to the servant’s quarters.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. Even she had not suspected Regina to be capable of sinking to such depths.

“I know that was rather extreme,” Robin acknowledged. “But Regina simply wouldn’t calm down until Miss West was banished out of sight behind the green baize-door.”

“I suppose Miss West has been sent away by now?” Emma surmised.

Robin nodded. “As soon as she left, Regina and I took the carriage to Lady Spencer’s lodgings and broke the news to her.”

“How did her ladyship take it?” asked Mary Margaret.

“She was dreadfully angry, I suppose?” Emma chimed in.

“Oh, absolutely!” Robin said. “She immediately sent for David to have it out with him.”

“Poor David. That cannot have gone well.” Emma grimaced.

“No. He absolutely refused to break his engagement with Miss West, in spite of all our representations.” Robin gave a sad shake of the head.

“He is determined on marrying Miss West, then?” Mary Margaret asked in a flat voice.

“Oh, yes. I had not expected him to be so stubborn!”

Emma and Mary Margaret were silent. Emma couldn’t help lamenting within herself at the circumstances that had led David to defy his stepmother at last. He would have done the same thing for Mary Margaret if there had been no Kelly West in the case.

Robin broke the silence. “Have you two heard anything from David lately? I know how highly he regards the two of you. In fact, Regina and I had thought at one point…” Robin glanced awkwardly at Mary Margaret, “and indeed, Regina now feels that that would have been a thousand times better as an alternative to…”

Emma pursed her lips. She and Mary Margaret exchanged an unamused glance. Neither sister had any doubt as to what Robin was alluding to.

“No, David hasn't called on us,” said Emma.

“I want to give you an idea of how severely his actions have hurt Lady Spencer, so you may be able to advise him if he does come to call on you.”

“Ah! We wondered as to what we owed the pleasure of your visit,” said Emma. This was the first time Robin had called on his sisters in nearly a fortnight. Mary Margaret shot her sister a warning look but she need not have worried, as the remark flew straight over Robin’s head.

He continued, “If he does stop by, do try to convince him to give up this foolish entanglement!”

“My dear brother!” Mary Margaret interjected. “We wouldn’t dare to presume on such a thing! Mr. Spencer knows how to manage his own concerns.”

Robin shook his head sadly. “His foolish infatuation with Miss West appears to have drained him out of all common prudence! Lady Spencer assured him that he may as well forget the idea of inheriting Spencer Hall if he does not break it off with Miss West, and yet he remains stubborn.”

“Spencer Hall is the family estate, is it not? As the eldest son of the family, David ought to inherit it anyway. Wouldn’t you agree, brother?” Emma could not resist.

Robin sputtered. “Sir Albert left Lady Spencer in full control of his estate to do as she saw fit!”

“I don’t suppose he envisaged his eldest son being cut out of his inheritance,” retorted Emma.

“Lady Spencer is not being unfair as you seem to think, Emma. She’s perfectly willing to settle Spencer Hall on David outright if he breaks off his match with Miss West and offers for Miss Midas instead.”

“Isn’t it somewhat overly optimistic to assume that Miss Midas would be willing to marry a man who has jilted a woman he has been engaged to for four years?” asked Mary Margaret, giving her brother a skeptical look.

“The matter will need to be handled delicately, to be sure,” said Robin, with a sweeping gesture. “We may be able to hush up the length of time for which David was engaged.”

“Not if Miss West decides to sue David for breach of promise,” said Emma, dryly.

Robin waved his hand airily. “There are ways of avoiding that.”

“Such as?” Mary Margaret prompted.

For a moment, Emma was overcome with the absurd notion of Regina and Kelly West meeting at dawn, pistols drawn, to determine David’s matrimonial fate.

“Lady Spencer is perfectly willing to expend a reasonable sum of money to placate Miss West,” said Robin. “Once Miss West knows she had no hope of gaining David, I’m sure she would see that as the most prudent alternative.”

“How…magnanimous of her ladyship,” Emma remarked.

“Is it not?” agreed Robin, enthusiastically. “Most women wouldn’t be half so solicitous for a stepson’s welfare. That is why I’m hoping that you two may try and reason with him. Someone needs to make him understand how precarious his position is!”

“Well…Lady Spencer’s generous offer does not seem to have tempted David into breaking off his engagement,” said Emma. She gestured between herself and her sister. “Why do you think we would be successful in convincing him to act dishonorably, or that we would even attempt such a thing?”

“My dear Emma,” said Robin, in a superior voice. “There is nothing more honorable than doing one’s duty to the family.”

Emma could barely restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Robin had not shown much of a family feeling when it came to herself and Mary Margaret.

“If David sticks to his resolution,” Robin continued, “Lady Spencer is determined to settle the estate on Walsh permanently.”

“That’s a strange way to punish filial disobedience!” exclaimed Mary Margaret. “I had not imagined Lady Spencer to be so vindictive.”

“You judge her harshly, Mary Margaret!” said Robin, frowning at her. “Lady Spencer is not doing this to punish David. She’s merely trying to safeguard the family estate from being tainted by an unequal connection to a low-born woman.”

“Is Lady Spencer so sure that Mr. Walsh will not contract a similarly unsuitable alliance?” asked Emma, cocking her head to one side. “With the independence to marry as he chooses, he need not have half the scruples David may have had.”

“Walsh is too sensible to do anything of that nature. Besides, once Lady Spencer makes the estate over to Walsh, there is no reason as to why he and Miss Midas may not make a match out of it.”

“Miss Midas would be amenable to exchange one brother for another, you think?” asked Emma, dryly.

“I see no reason why she should not,” replied Robin.

This time, Emma did not resist the urge to roll her eyes.

Emma was not yet fully disposed to forgiving David. However, Robin’s visit had done much to soften the anger she felt towards him. From Robin's second hand account of the proceedings, it was clear that David had received no kindness, support, or understanding from his stepmother and the rest of his family. With such relations as these, could one wonder that David had entered into a clandestine engagement in the first place? He would have been about the same age as she now was when he contracted it, and she was proof enough that not everybody made the wisest choices in love when they were twenty.

At the very least, Emma was inclined to agree with Mary Margaret in supposing that David had not meant to deceive her. Could she say the same for Neal? Did he warrant the same kind of mitigation? For a few moments, Emma tried to convince herself that perhaps Neal deserved the same kind of allowances that she was granting David. But soon, other sentiments prevailed. His attentions had been too particular and too open. Emma’s lips tightened. No, nothing would excuse Neal’s actions.

***


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt.

David did not come to visit the Miss Blanchards. He had, however, sent them a note with the directions of his current lodgings. Mary Margaret could not blame him for wishing to avoid a face-to-face meeting at this time. She had written to Ingrid informing her of David’s engagement to Kelly West, and of Neal Cassidy’s engagement to Miss Lambe. Ingrid’s reply was full of her affectionate solicitude for her young cousins, and had Emma clamoring to return to Misthaven.

“Mrs. Lucas shows no signs of wanting to return,” said Emma, with a petulant shake of her head, “for all her claims that she’d grow tired of London within a few weeks.”

“With all the snow and rains we’ve been having, I believe the roads are pretty bad for travel right now,” said Mary Margaret.

“I’m sure they aren’t that bad,” Emma declared, “If Mrs. Lucas wants to stay on, you and I could go by ourselves. We could easily take the mail coach to Devonshire, and hire a chaise from there to take us home.”

Mary Margaret looked at her sister with affectionate exasperation. “I’m afraid we’ll have to stay here a little longer than we’d planned for, Emma. You know very well that the Whales will not let us travel alone.”

“Well…they can come along if they wish,” said Emma.

Mary Margaret huffed.

A housemaid entered. She curtsied and said, “Captain Jones to see you, ma’am. He’s waiting in the breakfast parlor.”

“To see me?” asked Emma, twin spots of color on her cheeks.

“No ma’am, he asked for Miss Blanchard.”

Emma and Mary Margaret exchanged a surprised look.

“You better go,” said Emma, gesturing at the door.

“Yes, I suppose,” said Mary Margaret. Turning to the housemaid, she added, “Thank you, Ellen. I’ll be down right away.”

Mary Margaret went downstairs, bubbling with curiosity. Captain Jones was standing at a window when she entered the parlor. Catching sight of her, he came forward and bowed. 

“Thank you for seeing me, Miss Blanchard,” he said, when they had both sat down. “I have a matter to consult with you regarding a connection of yours—a Mr. Spencer.”

“Oh?”

“Mrs. Lucas appraised me of his engagement to a relation of hers, a Miss West, detailing that he has lost the support of his family in consequence.” He paused, looking at Mary Margaret for confirmation.

“That’s quite true,” Mary Margaret nodded. “His family does not approve of the connection.”

Captain Jones continued, “In that case, I find that it may be in my power to help him.”

“Indeed!” Mary Margaret leaned forward a little, her curiosity piqued.

“As you may know, Dr. Stone passed away in December.” He paused and Mary Margaret inclined her head in acknowledgment. “I’ve been too preoccupied with private concerns to pay attention to parish matters, and in consequence, have not gotten around to appointing a new rector.”

“Oh,” said Mary Margaret, guessing the nature of the Captain’s offer.

“If Mr. Spencer is inclined on taking holy orders, as Mrs. Lucas indicated to me, I would be happy to offer him the now vacant position of rector,” he said. “The living is worth about four hundred a year. And at least a hundred more if he plans to cultivate the farmlands connected to the parsonage.”

“That’s very kind of you, Captain,” Mary Margaret replied. “I know that Mr. Spencer is very much inclined to the church as a profession. This would be just the thing for him.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the Captain replied. “Would you be so good as to acquaint him with my offer? If he’s agreeable, please ask him to call on me at the Clarendon Hotel.”

Mary Margaret hesitated. “Wouldn’t it be better if the offer came from you directly, Captain?”

“I rather think Mr. Spencer would appreciate it if it came from someone familiar—” the captain gave a small smile “—lest he look upon my offer as an act of charity.”

After relating additional details about the living, Captain Jones enquired after Emma before leaving. There was nothing odd in the question in and of itself, but the almost detached manner of his query set Mary Margaret furiously to think. She had previously not failed to notice the naval gentleman’s interest in her sister, but she had believed Neal Cassidy and Emma better suited to each other’s temperaments. Now that Neal had proven himself fickle, Mary Margaret wondered if the captain had a chance. He certainly was quite the gentleman and well settled in his life and profession. In addition, his offer of the rectory to David was an act of disinterested kindness that struck her favorably. On the other hand, Emma was in no state to think of another man in her current condition of heartbreak. Sighing, Mary Margaret trudged upstairs and detailed Captain Jones’s offer to Emma.

“Captain Jones has offered the Misthaven living to David? Why?”

“I suppose he had to find a rector, and hearing about David’s situation from Mrs. Lucas, he thought he would do him a favor.”

“But why?” Emma repeated. “What is it to Captain Jones?”

“I don’t suppose it’s anything to him really.” Mary Margaret frowned. “Why, what’s the matter?”

Emma immediately gave a nonchalant shrug. “Nothing. I was just curious, that’s all.”

Mary Margaret arched her brows. This was interesting. Was it possible that Emma did harbor an inclination for the captain, after all? Wanting to find out more, she probed. “It doesn’t sound like nothing, Emma. Because if it was nothing, we wouldn’t be talking about it.”

“It’s really nothing.” Emma repeated. “Let’s talk about David.”

“But I don’t wish to talk about David,” Mary Margaret blurted out.

Emma’s gaze softened. She got up and sat next to her sister. “Oh, Mary Margaret, this cannot be easy for you. I can write to David about the offer if you like.”

Mary Margaret sighed. “No, I’ll write and ask him to call here. We can tell him about the rectory position together.”

Emma looked thoughtful. After a moment she said, “No, you should meet him alone. That’ll give him an opportunity to explain himself if he so wishes.”

David called at Harley Street a few hours after the receipt of Mary Margaret’s note. As Emma had suggested, she went down to meet him by herself, even though she doubted whether David would offer any explanations. And if he did, Mary Margaret was sure it would only serve to increase the awkwardness of their meeting.

A hint of color on David’s cheeks when Mary Margaret entered the room indicated his embarrassment over the meeting. Mary Margaret was much more composed, having had several months to digest the news of his engagement. She still was unsure whether David knew that Kelly West had shared the facts with her, or if he assumed that she had only learned of it with the rest of his family.

Without further ado, Mary Margaret related the details of Captain Jones’s offer to David, finishing with, “As soon as you are ordained, you will be able to assume the position at Misthaven.”

“And this is a rectory position, not a curacy?” Disbelief was written plainly on David’s countenance.

“It is. Would you like to hear the terms of the offer?”

“Of…of course,” said David, without any marked degree of enthusiasm. Mary Margaret sighed within herself. This conversation was proving to be quite an uphill task. When she had finished, David made a small gesture of acknowledgment and said, “I am grateful to Captain Jones, though I suspect it is you who I should be thanking.”

“Me?” Mary Margaret asked in surprise.

“Why would a gentleman I’ve never met make me such an offer if not for your good offices?”

“If there’s anyone you should thank other than the captain, it is Mrs. Lucas,” Mary Margaret replied. “She is a relation of Miss West, and has been quite concerned about the two of you. As are all your friends, including Emma and myself.”

“Thank you,” said David. He was silent for some time. His furrowed brows indicated that he was pondering over something. Finally, he said, “I remember your brother telling me that he had met Captain Jones at a dinner party here in December. He’s one of the principal landowners in the village of Misthaven, is he not?”

“Yes. His country estate is called Misthaven Abbey, and I believe the parsonage shares a boundary with it,” said Mary Margaret. “From all accounts, he would be quite accommodating as a neighbor.”

“I’m sure he would,” David said with a bite.

Mary Margaret blinked, taken aback. David flushed. “I sounded quite ungrateful there, didn’t I?” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “I’m wondering whether his worth as a neighbor is something I shall particularly prize if Robin’s hints are anything to go by.”

Mary Margaret finally understood the import of his words and she almost laughed out loud. It appeared that her dear brother had decided to matchmake her with Captain Jones. Whether Robin had specifically fixed on her rather than on Emma as a suitable match for the captain, or if that was merely David’s extrapolation, she could not predict. Whatever the cause, David was jealous. For a moment, Mary Margaret was tempted to let the idea stand unchallenged. Deciding against it, however, she stated, “Perhaps Robin was thinking of Emma when he spoke highly of the captain.”

David searched her face as if to check the sincerity of her statement. Then, his shoulders relaxed a trifle. “Oh, well. Still, if this captain has a partiality for Emma, perhaps that explains his wish to show kindness to a connection of hers.”

Mary Margaret looked at him steadily. “The unkindness you have met with in your family prevents you from recognizing sympathy and understanding in other people,” she said gently.

David reddened. “Forgive me, that was unpardonable. I have no right to judge another man’s motives when…” he trailed off. A resolute look crossing his face some moments later, he added. “I feel I owe you at the very least an explanation of my history with Miss West.”

So, Emma had been right, thought Mary Margaret, her heart sinking. She had no wish now to understand why David had contracted a secret engagement and she hastened into speech. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Mr. Spencer.”

David hunched back in his seat, deflated. With sudden clarity, Mary Margaret realized that David had probably never talked about this to anyone before. In a softened voice she added, “But I’m glad to lend a listening ear as a friend.”

David looked at her with a faint twinkle in his eyes that spoke to the twisted humor of their current situation. It was an echo of their past camaraderie that was likely now lost forever. “Thank you, you are too kind,” he said. Drawing a deep breath, he proceeded, “I met Miss West shortly after the death of my father, and asked her to marry me soon after. Even back then, I knew I had very little hope of winning my stepmother’s approval for the match.”

“Did you form plans on what you would do if she did not give her blessing?”

“I wanted to take ordination and gain some degree of independence, but I knew that choice would hurt Lady Spencer as well.”

“No matter what you did, you were going to disappoint her.” Mary Margaret stated.

David sighed and nodded. “That thought ought to have been enough to push me into decisive action. Instead of which, I dithered around.”

“You tried to keep everyone happy…” Mary Margaret made a helpless gesture.

“…but I ended up hurting them instead,” David finished.

Mary Margaret gave a humorless smile and bent down.

“Miss Blanchard,” David continued. “I know I should have told you about my engagement. I came close to doing so a couple of times—on the last day of your stay at Locksley and again when I came to Misthaven. I very much regret that I did not.”

“It would have been a breach of confidence with your fiancée if you had.” Mary Margaret gave a tight smile. “There is no point in dwelling on it now.”

David looked so downcast as he rose, that Mary Margaret’s heart ached for him. Hoping to end their conversation on a more positive note, she said, “The folks at Misthaven haven’t had a settled clergyman in more than a year, and will be quite glad to hear of the appointment.”

David smiled in a slightly more cheerful manner and took his leave.

After David had left, Mary Margaret continued sitting in the parlor for some time longer, thinking over their conversation and what Captain Jones’s offer would mean to his future. One part of her rejoiced over the knowledge that David would soon be enabled to take up his profession of choice. But a much larger part of her could not help anticipating the event this would expedite—David’s marriage to Kelly West. She had no doubt that Miss West would jump at the chance of settling down at an early date. Four-hundred a year was a far cry from the thousand or so a year that Spencer Hall yielded, but it would enable them to set up an establishment in a modest way. A heavy weight settled on Mary Margaret’s chest as she realized that within a few months, she would see David and his wife at church every Sunday and very likely at many of their social engagements. Ought she try convince Ingrid and Emma to move away from Misthaven? Go to Scotland, perhaps? Half-sighing, half-laughing at her absurd thoughts, Mary Margaret went up to her room to talk over David’s visit with her sister.

***

A few days later, Robin Blanchard called at the Whale residence again. Emma was in bed, laid up with a severe headache. Mary Margaret had bathed her sister’s temples with lavender water, and drawn the curtains in her room so she could try to get some rest. She then went down to the morning room, and had just picked up her work basket when Robin was announced. Mrs. Lucas, too curious to know how matters stood with respect to Mr. Spencer's engagement in his family, stayed put.

“A very alarming report reached us this morning, and I’ve come expressly to inquire as to its veracity,” said Robin, as soon as he entered the room.

“Yes?” said Mary Margaret, setting aside her needlework.

Robin took a deep breath. “Is it true that Captain Jones has offered David the Misthaven living?”

“Yes, it is true,” said Mary Margaret. “He told me so himself, and I intimated Mr. Spencer of his kind offer.”

“Good lord!” exclaimed Robin, sitting down heavily on the couch. “This is dreadful news indeed! But, perhaps there is still time to persuade David against taking ordination.”

“Why has this news agitated you so much? I don't quite understand…” said Mary Margaret, frowning.

“My dear Mary Margaret! How can you ask such a thing?” Robin looked shocked. “The eldest son of Sir Albert Spencer, to be a mere country parson?!”

“Being a country clergyman may not be fashionable enough for the high society of London, but it’s a very gentlemanly calling,” said Mrs. Lucas, frowning at Robin Blanchard over the rim of her spectacles. From their short acquaintance, she had not formed a very favorable opinion of this brother of the lovely Miss Blanchards. “After all, not every gentleman is likely to have a fortune at his disposal. Those that do not, typically have to seek out a profession, and what can be more respectable than the church?”

“Ah, that situation may apply to some people, ma’am, but not to my brother-in-law. He could have lived a life of ease and comfort had he paid due deference to the wishes of his family.” Robin shook his head sadly. “Lady Spencer will be heartbroken when she hears of this. David has expressly defied her wishes on both the matter of his marriage and his profession! It will bring the family a great deal of embarrassment when this news gets about.”

“If Lady Spencer had been so concerned with the family prestige, perhaps she ought not to have cut Mr. Spencer off without a penny to his name and settled everything on his brother,” retorted Mary Margaret, finally pushed past her usual restraint. “After all, a man has to live on something.”

“What Lady Spencer did, she did from the very best of motives. David’s stubborn insistence on remaining engaged to a mere nobody in the face of all her strong representations showed such a want of gratitude and respect that one cannot be surprised at her decision. She had hoped to remind her stepson of his duty to his family.”

“So, it was last ditch effort on her part? Reduce him to penury in order to force him into compliance?”

Robin shook his head admonishingly. “You wrong her very much, Mary Margaret. Lady Spencer has always treated David as her own son. If David had followed the path she had set for him, and betrothed himself to Miss Midas, his future would have been secure.”

“But not his honor,” commented Mary Margaret.

“Well said, my dear!” chipped in Mrs. Lucas. She added, addressing Robin directly, “I wish to give you some advice, Mr. Blanchard, unsolicited though it is. Don’t take it amiss, but I think your affection for your wife is preventing you from seeing things from other perspectives. The family name would suffer more if it got about that Mr. Spencer had thrown away his fiancée because his mother had threatened to cut him off from his fortune.”

Robin was taken aback at this joint attack. “As to that…”

“And one more thing,” said Mrs. Lucas, interrupting him. “I can understand why you do not look upon poor Kelly with kindness, but pray do not call her a nobody. She is a relation of mine, distant though it may be, and I will not stand by and let her be put down so abominably.”

“Pray, do not be offended, Mrs. Lucas,” said Robin, in a conciliating tone. “If she’s your relation, it is only right and understandable that you stand by her. However, you must consider how her conduct has pained our family! Miss West insinuated herself into my wife’s good graces in the guise of a friend and betrayed our trust.”

“I do not say that was the right way to go about things. However, women must live, and I will not judge her too harshly for it,” said Mrs. Lucas.

Robin had nothing to say in reply to that and rose to take leave. Mary Margaret walked him to the door. Pausing near the entrance, he said in his usual ponderous manner, “Captain Jones is quite the worthy gentleman, and his consulting you first about the rectory offer makes me suspect he has a _tendresse_ for you.”

Mary Margaret suppressed a hysterical giggle.

“I will advise you, my dear sister, do not throw away this opportunity of fixing him.” Robin smiled at her. “I have a notion to invite him to dine with us at Grosvenor Street. That will give you yet another opportunity to meet with him.”

“Are you sure Regina will be happy knowing that you’re planning another dinner after the way the last one went?” Mary Margaret said with an arch look.

Robin flushed a little. “Perhaps you’re right, but I shall think of something. No attentions will be wanting on my part to shew the captain how thoroughly your family approves of the connection.”

“My dear brother! You really are getting ahead of yourself. I’m sure Captain Jones has no such inclinations towards me.”

“We shall see…” said Robin.

Mary Margaret let it go at that. Any further protests on her part would only seem missish. At any rate, Captain Jones would likely not complain of the opportunity to meet with Emma. Whether Emma would feel the same way, was quite another question.

***

The notice of Mr. Neal Cassidy’s marriage to Miss Tamara Lambe appeared in the principal newspapers in early February. With the cessation of incessant rains, the round of social engagements had been resumed at Harley Street. The whirl of social activity left Emma feeling anxious and tired as she kept a watchful eye out for Mr. and Mrs. Cassidy every time they stepped out of the house. She was terrified of coming across them in public and did not know how she would be able to keep her countenance if she did.

When the first rush of her anger at Neal’s betrayal had passed, Emma could not help tormenting herself by wondering whether she had only been a passing distraction to Neal. When she remembered how unpretentious he had been, she could hardly bring herself to believe that he was so mercenary as to marry solely for the sake of money. As she thought back to Neal’s reactions during their unexpected encounter at Hyde Park, Emma realized that he had been very ill at ease. It was not the demeanor of someone who had wantonly toyed with a woman’s affections. Had their meeting caused him any pangs of regret at having thrown away her affections? Emma knew that the last line of thought was unproductive in the extreme. He was now married and the sooner she put away such thoughts, the better. But it was easier said than done, and she spent many a waking hour in restless anxiety and paid the price for it in nights of disturbed slumber.

About this time, Robin invited his sisters to a play at the Theatre Royal, having secured a box for the occasion. After what Robin had let slip the other day, Emma half expected Regina to be more cordial in her manner towards Mary Margaret. However, their sister-in-law seemed almost as much irritated by the fact that David was not in love with Mary Margaret as she had been when she had believed that he was in love with her.

To Emma’s surprise, she found that Captain Jones was one of the invited guests. From his manner, Emma could tell that he wanted to speak with her, and tried to avoid the possibility of a tête-à-tête as much as possible. Emma felt hopeful that she might succeed in her objective when she saw with some amusement that her brother was forwarding any attempt at conversation between the captain and her sister. When he stepped out of the box during the intermission, Emma knew that her luck had run out. Sure enough, the captain maneuvered to find a chair next to her when he returned. However, he did not speak immediately. After a few minutes, Emma let out a small, frustrated breath, and broke the silence herself.

“Aren’t you going to gloat?” she said in a low murmur.

Captain Jones looked puzzled. “Why would I do that?” he whispered.

Emma threw a sideways glance at him. “Because you were justified in warning me about Mr. Cassidy.”

“You must think very poorly of me if you think me capable of exulting in such a situation.” He sounded pained.

“Do not tell me that you don’t feel at least a little bit of satisfaction in being right,” Emma hissed under her breath. “It’s only human.”

Captain Jones smiled humorlessly. “I’ll not deny that I was glad when I found that Mr. Cassidy was engaged to Miss Lambe, knowing that you were no longer in danger of being his dupe.”

“And what of Mrs. Cassidy? Are you not sorry for her?”

“I am, but only in an abstract sort of way.” Captain Jones waved his hand lightly. “You can hardly blame me for making a difference between someone I know and a stranger.”

“You hardly know me,” Emma countered.

“Perhaps you are more of an open book than you suspect.”

“Indeed? And what do you claim to read so easily in my countenance?”

Captain Jones cocked his head to one side. “I have seen the look in your eyes many a time—that of a person who has had their heart broken.”

“Is it because you have broken so many hearts that you recognize the look easily?” Emma shot back.

She had expected to offend him, as she had during their previous conversation. He looked at her steadily and replied, “It is because I’ve seen it in the mirror for many years now.”

Emma’s throat tightened and she fought to suppress the tears threatening to fall. She exhaled slowly to get her emotions under control and said with trembling lips, “I was in love with Mr. Cassidy, and he broke my heart. Are you proud of your accurate reading?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Miss Emma, but I’m glad to hear it.”

“You’re glad to hear I had my heart broken?”

Still watching her with an intense expression, Captain Jones took her hand in his. “If it can be broken,” he said, and gently pressed her hand, “it still works.”

Emma could say nothing. She stared at the captain, her heart beating rapidly. Recollected to her surroundings after some moments, Emma blinked and gently extricated her hand. Captain Jones cleared his throat and turned his face to the stage. After a moment, a linen handkerchief was pressed into her hand and Emma used it to brush the tears from her eyes. She could not but feel touched by the captain’s evident sincerity. This man seemed far removed from the cold and heartless villain Neal had painted him as. And if Captain Jones’s previous oblique hints were to be believed, Neal was no paragon himself. Wanting to know more, she said, “Captain Jones, was Miss Lambe the person you alluded to during dinner the other night when you…” Emma trailed off, unsure how to complete her sentence.

Captain Jones seemed to have caught her meaning. He cleared his throat and said, “No, it was someone else.”

Emma frowned. “You mean Mr. Cassidy was pursuing yet another woman?”

“Pursuing is a rather generous term to use,” he gritted out. “And she’s hardly a woman. She’s just a girl, in fact.”

Emma’s breath hitched. Mrs. Lucas’s remarks about Captain Jones’s ward early in their acquaintance popped into her mind. “Wendy?” she blurted out.

Captain Jones’s jaw dropped. He leaned forward slightly. “Who told you?” he asked in an urgent whisper. His proximity and the hint of anger in his voice flustered Emma.

“I merely guessed,” Emma said, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry, Captain. I didn't mean to offend.”

Captain Jones’s jaw clenched. After a moment, his demeanor relaxed. “I apologize, Miss Emma. I was afraid that the information had spread.”

Emma apologized again and assured him that she would not mention the matter to anyone.

“Thank you, Miss Emma.” The captain gave her a small but genuine smile to indicate that he was not vexed with her.

Emma once again reassured him of her discretion. The play ended shortly after and they parted with a certain degree of mutual awkwardness. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I would love to hear your thoughts. :-)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt. Please check-out @captainswanandclintasha‘s lovely pic-set for chapters 9 and 10 on tumblr.

Emma was unable to stop thinking of her conversation with Captain Jones in the days following the visit to the theater. He had not given her any details about what had passed between Neal Cassidy and Wendy, but from the terminology he had used, it did not appear to be merely a question of Neal leaving the girl with unfulfilled matrimonial expectations. Had Mrs. Lucas not said that Wendy was only fifteen? Emma could hardly believe that Neal was capable of seducing anyone, let alone someone so young. The possibility was simply too horrible to contemplate.

While one part of her mind was occupied in this manner, another part was reevaluating her former judgments of Captain Jones. He was proving himself to be a much kinder and worthier man than she had given him credit for. Cousin Ingrid and Mrs. Lucas had occasionally let fall in casual conversation that he had brought the Misthaven Abbey estate from the brink of financial ruin using his naval prize money and done much to improve the life of his tenants. He was hardly the usurper Neal saw him as. Even if Neal had inherited the Abbey, he lacked the means and—Emma suspected—the drive to set it to rights as Captain Jones had done. In additional support of the captain’s essential integrity and goodness of heart was his offer of the Misthaven living to David. And he had done it because he had heard of David’s shameful treatment at the hands of his family. He had understood her broken heart and offered comfort without being indelicate or condescending. Emma felt a sort of reluctant respect and gratitude growing within her for the captain despite all her self-cautions.

Mary Margaret had not missed Emma’s restlessness and unease, and from the way Mrs. Lucas and Ruby were tiptoeing around her, Emma could tell that they noticed it as well. But from their occasional remarks, Emma realized that they all credited Neal’s marriage as the sole cause of her mental agitation. Emma thought it best to leave it at that. She had not shared any of the details of her conversation with Captain Jones even to her sister. Whatever she herself might suspect in regards to the nature of Neal’s behavior, it would be unpardonable in her to share them with anyone.

Emma was in her room reading a novel one afternoon when Ruby came in. The serious expression on her face made Emma pause. She set down her book and prepared to listen.

Ruby pulled up a chair beside Emma’s bed and sat down. She was holding a letter in her hand.

“Who’s that from?” Emma nodded at the letter.

“It’s from Belle.” Ruby paused. “You know she’s really Mr. Cassidy’s stepmother?”

Emma nodded, wondering at the question.

“I’ve seen how much Mr. Cassidy’s marriage has upset you, Emma.” Ruby gave a small smile. “I wrote to Belle in the off-chance that she may have some information that might help you recover from your disappointment.”

“Oh, Ruby,” said Emma, pressing her arm lightly. She was really touched by her friend’s solicitude.

“I got more than what I bargained for.” Ruby bit her lip. “Emma, the contents of Belle’s letter are rather disturbing, I’m afraid.”

Emma’s eyes widened. Her heart-beat sped up when she realized that Mrs. Gould’s letter might have the answers she was looking for. “Please tell me, Ruby. Whatever it is, I want to know.”

Ruby extended the letter to her. “Here—read it yourself.”

Emma almost snatched it from Ruby’s hand. Skimming over the introductory messages, she jumped to the part of the letter that was about Neal. It read as follows:

 _In reply to your inquiry regarding Neal, I_ _’m afraid I have some very distressing information to share. After Neal left Misthaven in September last year, it came to my knowledge that he had formed an illicit connection with a young girl of genteel birth and had abandoned her after getting her with child. You may imagine how reluctant I was to believe such a charge against someone I have always considered as my son. At the same time, the information came from a trustworthy person very closely connected with the girl in question. I immediately wrote to Neal asking him for an explanation of his conduct and urging him to do right by the girl and marry her if the report was indeed true._

_Neal would not lie to me. He admitted to his guilty connection, but it pains me exceedingly to say that he absolutely refused to marry the girl. The only explanation he would offer for his unprincipled and immoral conduct was that of weakness. I wrote to him a few more times urging him to do the right thing, but it was to no avail. He wrote to me briefly in January announcing his impending nuptials, and that is the last I have heard of him. I have never felt a greater sense of shame in my life—I feel that I am to blame for not having seen this terrible weakness in his character. If I had known it, perhaps I could have guided him better as he was growing up._

_I know that Neal had been paying attentions to Miss Emma Blanchard while at Misthaven last autumn. If you believe that this knowledge will help her overcome her heartbreak over his marriage, please share this with her. However, this should go no further._

Emma looked at Ruby in horror. This was worse than anything she had imagined. Emma felt her heart break all over again. This time, not for herself, but for Wendy.

“I never thought he was capable of such heinous conduct.” Emma shivered. “I suppose I never knew him.”

“Belle sees the best in everyone,” said Ruby. “But she’s no fool. I would have a hard time believing anyone else’s account of the matter.”

After some minutes of silence, Emma said, “I must thank you for sharing this with me, Ruby. Much as it pains me to find that Mr. Cassidy has feet of clay, I’m glad to know the truth about him at last.”

Ruby nodded. “The truth can be painful at times, and yet liberating,” said Ruby. She took Belle’s letter back from Emma and folded it.

Emma gave a twisted smile. “ _Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free._ ”

Ruby gave a sympathetic smile. After a minute, she rose. “I want to show you something. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Ruby left the room and Emma stayed lost in thought. Mrs. Gould’s letter had put paid to the small sliver of hope she had held on to that Captain Jones’s hints against Neal had been unfounded. That she had so misjudged Neal was hardly shocking considering that even his stepmother had not believed him capable of such selfishness and callousness.

Ruby came back holding a locket threaded to a thin gold chain. She sat back down beside Emma and pressed the catch. It flew open, revealing two silhouette-portraits, one on either side. The one on the left was very obviously the likeness of Ruby; Emma did not recognize the other one. Her memory was hazy, but she didn’t think it resembled the portrait of Ruby’s mother she had seen at Lucas Park.

“Who is she?” asked Emma, wondering if it was a sibling who had died.

“Her name is Dorothy.” Ruby gave a twisted smile. “She’s a distant connection of our family from the American colonies. She came to England after her mother died and stayed with us at Misthaven for a while.”

Emma nodded, unsure where this was heading.

“We fell in love,” said Ruby, with a pointed look.

It took Emma a moment. Her jaw dropped. She knew of such things of course, especially in connection with naval circles, and was aware of the so-called “molly-houses” in London that provided a covert venue for people who desired clandestine meetings of this nature. But in day-to-day life, she had never come across anyone—let alone a lady of genteel birth—who harbored an attraction for someone of their same gender.

“Dorothy and I knew we had little chance of a real future,” continued Ruby, “but we ignored reality for a while. We fantasized about living out our lives as close friends to the outside world like the ‘Ladies of Llangollen’.”

Eleanor Butler and Sarah Ponsonby were two Irish gentlewomen who had spurned a traditional life and “eloped” to Wales together, settling down at Llangollen. The exact nature of their relationship was unknown, though rumors swirled of an amorous connection. Their unconventional life fascinated a lot of people, including famous personages like the Duke of Wellington, Lord Byron, and even the Queen. However, while the nation might tolerate two women living an unorthodox life, it would be dangerously naive to expect them to approve of other women following in their footsteps.

“What happened?”

“Granny found out. She wasn’t angry, but she was very upset and unhappy. You see—my parents died when I was very young and Granny was the one who brought me up. She was everything to me.” Ruby’s voice cracked at that, and Emma reached out and squeezed her hand to offer some comfort. “I tried to convince her that we could all pick up and leave England and go settle somewhere abroad—America or the African colonies.”

“Did she agree?”

“She did. But at the end of the day, I knew it was but a foolish dream. Granny has deep roots in the heart of Devonshire—our family has lived there for generations. It wouldn’t have been right to transplant her to an unknown place at her age.” Ruby shrugged. “Besides, no matter where we went, we would never be able to live an open life. It would involve constant deception and scheming. And if the truth was ever discovered…”

Emma shivered.

“Ultimately, Dorothy made the choice to go back to America.” Tears ran down her cheeks as she said that, and she could not go on. Emma offered her a handkerchief to dry her eyes and rubbed her arms, trying to reciprocate the kindness she had received from Ruby.

“I am so sorry,” said Emma, sympathizing with Ruby from her heart.

Ruby dried her eyes and continued, “I was heartbroken for a long time, and didn’t think I would find happiness again. Then, I met Victor at a ball one day. We somehow, connected. I told him about Dorothy.”

Emma gasped. “He knows?”

“Yes,” said Ruby, with a genuine smile this time. “There were things in his past he was…not proud of. We hold no judgment over each other. We both got a chance to start over, and we decided to take it. So should you.” 

“I…it’s not the same. Dorothy didn’t play you for a fool like Neal played me and that other girl suffered a worse fate.”

“Dorothy still broke my heart when she left,” said Ruby. Emma had no reply to that. Ruby continued, “I will always love Dorothy. But that doesn’t diminish the deep love I have for my husband. Heartbreak of this kind is hard to endure, but it doesn’t have to be the end of all happiness.”

Emma laughed shakily.

“I’m not saying that you should fall in love with the next person who asks you to dance. But I do not think you ought to spend a single minute regretting the loss of such a man as Neal Cassidy.” Ruby looked her steadily. “He does not deserve it.”

“I do agree that he does not,” said Emma. She rose and embraced Ruby warmly. “Ruby…thank you for sharing all this with me, and for being so understanding.”

Ruby grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”

***

The long-put off outing to Vauxhall Gardens was finally to take place. Even if the fireworks would not be as spectacular as at Christmas, the regular displays were said to be quite worth seeing. The Harley Street party set off around six in the evening for Westminster, where they planned to rendezvous with the Robin Blanchards, and proceed to Vauxhall together by boat. Robin and Regina were there to greet them when they alighted from the carriage, along with Roland and Walsh Spencer. Little Margot had been left in the care of the nursery-maid at home. Roland excitedly hopped up to his aunts when he spotted them. Emma picked him up and kissed his chubby cheeks, making him giggle and squirm in her hold. She found that they were only waiting for Captain Jones to join their party to get started with the evening’s activities. Mary Margaret had told Emma of Robin’s misguided attempts at matchmaking and Emma could not help being amused by their brother’s dedication to his plan.

Captain Jones joined them about ten minutes later and their party got into a boat and were soon on their way to Vauxhall. The boat dropped them off near the main entrance of the gardens, and they made their way inside after paying over the one shilling per person entrance fee. For a while they kept together as a group, admiring the flowerbeds and waterfalls, and finally stopped next to a roped-off enclosure where a performance of acrobatics was proceeding, much to little Roland’s delight.

Mary Margaret wanted to observe an equestrian display that was in progress a little further away and some of the party, consisting of Emma, Captain Jones, and the Whales, joined her. As yet that evening, Captain Jones had not made a move to talk to Emma, but she could feel his eyes drifting to her. Not wanting him to think that she was avoiding him, and wishing to make an overture of friendship, she slowly made her way to his side and smiled at him. His expression brightened and he returned her smile. They made desultory conversation for a while.

“Miss Emma,” said Captain Jones, after a short pause. “I must apologize again for my abrupt manner to you the other night. I was surprised when you mentioned Wendy’s name, but that is no excuse for my rudeness.”

“It was I who was rude, Captain,” she said. “For I ought not to have mentioned the name of…um, your niece. I blurt out things thoughtlessly at times.”

“You’re never thoughtless Miss Emma,” he said, with a soft smile. “And yes—Wendy was my brother’s only daughter.”

“Are her parents dead?”

“Yes. My brother, Liam, died in action at Trafalgar. My sister-in-law died of consumption about five years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded in acknowledgment and adjusted his collar. Emma wanted to ask more questions about Wendy Jones, but was hesitant. She did not know how the captain would feel about Belle sharing the information with Ruby and herself, even if she had not actually named Wendy in her letter. But then, he was the one who had brought her up in conversation today. She began, “Is Wendy…? Where is she now?”

“She’s in Kent, in the care of a very trusted friend of mine, Admiral Nemo.”

“Oh, I’m glad she’s being well looked-after.”

“I’m going back to Kent next week to be with her. She is just sixteen, you know…”

Emma was glad that he was not going to leave his niece alone in this critical time. She wondered how Captain Jones was able to let Neal walk freely, after knowing how cruelly he had treated his niece. Granted, an open trial in court was impossible for the sake of preserving Wendy’s reputation, but as a naval man, Emma could not believe that he had done nothing. She expressed some of these thoughts out loud.

“Not for lack of trying, I assure you,” he replied, his expression darkening. His right hand drifted to his arm in what seemed an unconscious gesture.

Emma’s eyes widened. “Is that how you injured your arm?”

Captain Jones arched his brows.

Emma blushed. “I noticed you seemed to be in some pain when you came over for dinner at Harley Street…” she trailed off.

“You’re quite clever, Miss Emma.” Captain Jones huffed out a laugh. “Cassidy didn’t wing me fair and square, you know. But I should probably stop here before I say any more.”

“I’d rather know.” Emma made a deprecating gesture.

Captain Jones considered her for a moment. Then, he said, “Well...he fired at me before the count was up. Proved he was just as much of a coward as his father.” He gave a derisive smile.

Emma expelled a short breath. She didn’t wish to dwell on what may have happened if Neal had seriously injured the captain, or worse.

“I would have killed him then and there, but Nemo stopped me—he was my second.” Captain Jones waved his hand slightly. “He reminded me that it would do Wendy little good if I was hanged for murder trying to avenge her honor.”

Emma shook her head in sympathy. She and the captain stood in silence together for a while, but it was not an uncomfortable one. Their last two encounters had been so fraught with agitation that Emma was glad of the opportunity to part with him on an amicable note. Mrs. Lucas had finally fixed on a date for their return to Misthaven, and as Captain Jones was leaving for Kent shortly, there was no saying when they would meet next.

The group then meandered through the Grand Walk, now splendidly illuminated with the light of thousands of colorful lanterns, in the direction of the supper-boxes, where they met back up with the others. One unsatisfactory supper consisting of thinly sliced ham, dry chicken, and assorted puddings later, they all made their way to the fireworks display.

Walsh ambled up to Emma, holding a cup of Vauxhall’s special arrack punch. Emma suspected from the brightness of his eyes that he had already imbibed rather liberally of the potent drink.

“Have you seen David lately, Miss Emma?” he asked, speaking loudly as to be heard over the sound of the fireworks.

“It’s been a couple of weeks since he called on us at Harley Street,” Emma replied.

“Poor David. It’s just like him to fall in love with such a dowdy unfashionable creature.” Walsh snickered.

Emma pressed her lips together. Much as she did not like Miss West, she did not fancy the tone of Walsh’s remarks.

Walsh took a sip of punch. “My brother has always had his head in the clouds, but even I didn’t expect him to be this foolish.”

“In honorably standing up for his engagement, you mean?” Emma said pointedly.

“That’s probably what the poor sod imagines he’s doing.” Walsh’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Besides, my mother and Regina set his back up, you know? Sadly, they have no talent for subtlety or logic.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Walsh?”

“They were too belligerent towards Miss West. It hurt David’s pride.” Walsh waved his hand in emphasis. “Depend upon it, that’s half the reason why he’s sticking to it."

Emma simply shrugged.

“If David had a grain of common sense, he’d know that he’s being duped by this woman.” Walsh rolled his eyes.

“One can hardly question Miss West’s attachment to David considering the way she is standing by him.” Privately, of course, Emma agreed with Walsh’s sentiment in this matter, but she felt a perverse compulsion to argue against the point.

Walsh drained his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He threw Emma a sideways glance. “My mother has plenty of investments not tied to Spencer Hall, you know? You don’t suppose Miss West is unaware of that?”

“You believe she’s only after the money, then?” she asked dryly.

“Of course she is. I saw how she was trying to flatter up Regina when she was staying with them. I bet she thinks she can butter up my mother the same way.” Rooting around in his pocket, Walsh extracted a small silver snuff box. He opened the box with a practiced flick of his thumb, took an infinitesimal pinch, and inhaled. With a sigh of satisfaction, he dusted his fingers and replaced the snuff box. Emma watched the proceedings with mingled amusement and distaste. Taking snuff was a common enough habit, especially among the dandy-set, but the practice filled Emma with mild revulsion. Walsh continued, “You know what, Miss Emma. I think it may still be possible to extricate my idiot brother from this mess.”

“And how do you plan to do that, Mr. Walsh?”

“I’m going to convince Miss West to set him free,” he remarked, confidently.

“Indeed!” Emma arched her brows.

“I have a good idea on how to approach Miss West.” Walsh gave a faux-modest smile. “She doesn’t realize how inflexible my mother can be. Once I get her to understand that she cannot expect a penny of support from my mother, I bet she’ll back away from David as soon as you can blink.”

Regina came up to them, a sleeping Roland in her arms. She threw an irritated look at Emma and turned to Walsh. “Here, Walsh, could you carry him for some time?” She handed the sleeping boy to his uncle. “Robin has gone to get him warm milk.”

Emma rolled her eyes and turned away. Regina evidently suspected her of casting lures at her younger brother now that he had acquired Spencer Hall. Even if Emma had been inclined to look for a match—which she was not—Walsh Spencer was the last man she would wish to become entangled with. As for what Walsh had told her of his intentions regarding Miss West, Emma wished him success in her heart. If Walsh’s interference could set David free to marry Mary Margaret honorably, that would be the best outcome. However, she suspected that Walsh had underestimated Kelly West’s determination to marry David. David’s income as a clergyman would not be high, but it was more than enough to secure a respectable establishment for someone with the threat of poverty hanging over their head.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know your thoughts! Next week, we'll be going back to Misthaven. :-)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sisters return to Misthaven and the story moves on to the stage. Hope you enjoy! Thanks to my betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt for all their input.

Emma and Mary Margaret returned to Misthaven in March, after a three-month sojourn in London that had been filled with heartbreak and tumult. As Emma caught sight of the vine-covered walls of Arendell Cottage, she felt relieved to have returned at last. Mrs. Lucas wanted to go on directly home, and therefore the sisters took leave of her within the carriage and stepped down.

Ingrid was standing outside with Ashley, Astrid, and even Leroy, to welcome her young cousins back home. As Ingrid embraced her cousins, Emma’s eyes filled with tears. Ingrid passed a soothing hand across her shoulders, saying, “There, now. You’re home.”

The sisters spent the next few days getting back into their old routine. At first, Ingrid did not make any enquiries regarding Neal or David, for which Emma was thankful. Indeed, Emma and Mary Margaret did not talk about them even when they were alone together. Mary Margaret seemed particularly desirous of avoiding any mention of David. And the wound in Emma’s heart was still too fresh, and she did not wish to prod it repeatedly, even if the pain over the revelation of Neal’s true character now eclipsed her initial heartbreak. That someone she had cared for—that she still had lingering feelings for though she tried hard to fight against them—was so immoral was deeply painful to her. His treatment of her, while not the actions of an honorable gentleman, paled in comparison to how despicably he had treated Wendy Jones. Emma could see nothing to mitigate his actions in that quarter.

Ingrid’s quiescence did not last for long, however, and at the end of the week, she opened the conversation with, “Emma, I feel that I did not do enough to shield you from Neal Cassidy. I took you and your sister away from Locksley and promised you a comfortable home, but I fear I failed in my responsibilities as a guardian.”

Emma dropped the book she’d been reading in her surprise. She retrieved the book from where it had fallen and collected her thoughts. Emma had not expected Ingrid to blame herself over this. “Cousin Ingrid, the fault is entirely mine. You did caution me against the improprieties he was leading me into.” Her lips twisted down. “I was too blind to listen.”

“We were all blinded to a greater or lesser degree by his charm.” Ingrid sighed. “I have known him ever since I moved here with Helga about ten years ago now. We were not well acquainted, but I would never have pegged him down as the kind of man who would so cruelly sport with a woman’s feelings.”

Oh, if only Ingrid knew the whole truth! Emma wondered if she ought to reveal the information contained in Belle’s letter, without naming Wendy, but a few minutes’ reflection convinced her against it. Even couched in the vaguest terms, their cousin might be able to put two and two together and discover the identity of Neal’s victim. Besides, she had not even told her sister. Emma felt as though it would be as much a betrayal of Mary Margaret as of Captain Jones if she shared the information with Ingrid. To Mary Margaret and Ingrid, therefore, Neal was only the man who had broken her heart. They would have to remain ignorant of the full extent of his perfidy.

“How is your sister holding up over Mr. Spencer’s engagement? Mary Margaret never spoke to me openly about the matter, but I suspected a _tendresse_ between them when he visited us.”

“You weren’t wrong in your impression, cousin,” Emma acquiesced. “Mary Margaret seems to be holding up much better than me. But sometimes I feel she just does not wish to show it. It’s not going to be easy for her when David takes up his position as rector here.”

Ingrid shook her head sympathetically.

Emma hesitated before asking, “Cousin Ingrid, were you ever tempted to…?”

“Marry?” Ingrid smiled. “I received one or two offers when I was young, but most of the young lads were put off by my cold demeanor, or so my sister used to tell me.”

“Helga?”

“No—Gerda. She and I were always squabbling.” Ingrid huffed.

“Why did you and cousin Helga decide to settle in Misthaven?” Emma had always been curious about this point, but she not felt comfortable discussing this with her cousin before. Even though she and Mary Margaret had spent the last three months elsewhere, there was more ease and familiarity between them and their cousin now.

“I suppose we wanted to put as much distance from Gerda as we could.” Ingrid gave a small self-deprecatory laugh. “It all seems quite trivial now.”

“Has cousin Gerda ever visited you?”

“Not once. Not even for Helga’s funeral.” Ingrid sighed. “But then, we never visited them either. Gerda has two lovely daughters, but I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

After some minutes of silence, Ingrid cleared her throat and said gently, “I know it may seem like the end of all hope for you and your sister now. But you’re both still quite young. You will rally again.”

Emma felt a little comforted after her talk with her cousin, and went back to her former pursuits with a more willing spirit. She took out the music sheets Captain Jones had given her. She was ashamed to realize how long she had neglected them, and tackled them with renewed vigor.

At church on Sunday, Emma was surprised to find that Misthaven had a new curate. August Booth had been replaced by a Mr. William Scarlett, who would presumably stay on until David’s arrival.

Emma caught up with Belle after the service and thanked her for the letter. Belle pressed her hand warmly. “You’re welcome,” she replied, a hint of sorrow in her voice.

Mr. Scarlett joined them. Belle made the introductions.

“I hear the new rector is a relation of yours, Miss Emma,” said Mr. Scarlett. “Tell me, when do I have to start packing me bags?”

Emma huffed out a surprised laugh. “I do not know when Mr. Spencer will be here.”

“Mr. Scarlett, I didn’t realize you had any bags,” said Belle, with a twinkle in her eyes.

“You got me there, Mrs. Gould.” Mr. Scarlett threw up his hands and grinned.

Belle turned back to Emma, “I’m glad you’re back for more than one reason, Miss Emma. Would you and your sister be available to make parish visits this coming week?”

“Of course,” said Emma, cheerfully, eager to get immersed into Misthaven life once more.

March slid into April with a late burst of snow and ice. Emma was at her pianoforte practicing vigorously one morning when the drawing room door opened to admit Captain Jones. Emma stopped and made as if to get up.

“Please do not stop on my account,” said Captain Jones, raising his hand. “I shall wait for you in the parlor.”

Emma hesitated for a moment and said, “I do not mind if you stay, Captain. Cousin Ingrid and Mary Margaret have gone to Storybrooke, but they should be back shortly.”

“Alright.” Captain Jones scratched behind his ear in what seemed like a nervous gesture and sat down. Emma wondered if he felt awkward being alone in her company. She herself felt a little nervous as she turned back to the music. She and the captain had jumped from being casual acquaintances to sharing intimate revelations and then to having no contact for several weeks. Emma was unclear how to navigate the social niceties of the situation. So, instead of speaking, she started playing.

There was an immediate change in the atmosphere of the room. Music was a language they could both understand without the need for words. Emma felt at ease as her fingers flew over the keys. He pulled his chair closer to her piano and sat listening silently, and when she was done, he praised her performance.

She thanked him and added, “It’s one of the pieces you gave me.” It was an accident that she had been playing that particular one when the captain had called, but Emma was glad of the chance to show him that she had not scorned his thoughtful gift.

He smiled warmly. “I recognized it.”

Emma had a sudden thought. She rooted through her music sheets and pulled up the one that had been giving her some trouble. “Captain,” she said, waving the sheet in his direction. “I was wondering if you could help me with this one section here. I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong.”

He rose and came closer. Taking the sheet from her, he spread it on top of the instrument. Emma pointed to the troublesome section.

“Could you try it now?” he asked.

Emma placed the sheet in front of her and played through the section once.

He hummed. “Let me see it again?” he said, reaching for the music.

Emma hesitated. “Perhaps it might be easier if you come over to this side?” Her heart suddenly beat faster, wondering if he would think she was being too forward. However, without as much as a raised eyebrow, he did as she had suggested. Leaning forward a little from behind her, he looked over the section and made a couple of suggestions. Emma caught a whiff of citrus and sage and she wondered if he used a perfume with those fragrance notes and then reddened at the derailment of her train of thought.

She tried his suggestions.

“It still doesn’t sound quite right.” Emma made a frustrated huff. “Would you like to try?”

He hesitated, and Emma immediately felt horrible. Had he not told her that he had stopped playing? Most likely due to his war injury, and she had just called attention to it like an imbecile! She stammered out, “I mean, you don’t have to, of course…”

“No, you’re correct. I might be able to interpret the passage better if I try it myself.”

Not knowing what to think, Emma slid out of the bench to make way for the captain. She wondered how long it had been since he had played. Shifting his coattails out of the way, Captain Jones sat down and took off the glove in his right hand, but kept the other glove on. Standing so close, Emma noticed the hint of ginger mixed with the dark strands of hair in his head. His shoulders flexed as he played a few bars, and Emma was recalled to the moment with a blush. He then started playing the section above the problematic one. It was evident that the glove on his left hand was hindering his fingering. An annoyed huff escaped his lips and he took off the offending glove. Emma’s gaze automatically fell on the hand it had been covering. There was a large scar that ran down from the top of his ring finger, curved down the back of his hand and disappeared into his shirt sleeves.

He started playing again. The slight stiffness in the injured hand affected the speed of his playing, but Emma could tell that he was no unskilled amateur. He tried a couple of variations in fingering.

“I think there is a wrong notation here—perhaps a mistake made by the person who copied the music. If we skip over that note…”

“There!” cried Emma. “I think you have it.”

Captain Jones grinned, and repeated the line.

“Let me try it,” said Emma eagerly.

Captain Jones picked up his gloves and slid out of the bench and Emma slid back into the spot. She copied what he had done. “It’s perfect.” She turned to him. He smiled broadly. “Thank you,” she said warmly and meant it from her heart. Captain Jones had ignored his discomfort for her sake and she felt genuinely grateful.

“You’re very welcome, Miss Emma,” he said. “I’m glad I could be of help.”

She rose from her seat and they both moved to the other side of the instrument.

“I should take my leave,” said Captain Jones, looking at the clock on the wall. Almost an hour had flown by.

Emma hesitated on whether she ought to press him to stay. She did not wish to repeat the improprieties she had been led into with Neal. But then, Captain Jones had behaved like a gentleman. Making her decision, she said, “Let me offer you some refreshment. It’s the least I can do.”

Captain Jones refused her offer of tea, however, and picked up his hat in preparation to leave. Wanting to see his stallion again, Emma followed him to the stable. Bill nickered softly when she greeted him.

“I think he recognized me,” Emma said with a grin.

Captain Jones chuckled. “He likely remembers you giving him the apple. Bill’s memory tends to run along the lines of food.”

Emma laughed. “In that case, I will find him something to eat so he remembers me even better.” Rooting around in the shelf where the donkey feed was kept, she located a pear, and with a short mental apology to the absent donkey, fed it to Bill.

“I’m surprised you don’t ride, Miss Emma, seeing how fond you are of horses.”

“Mary Margaret is the horsewoman of the two of us,” said Emma. “I was too busy taking music lessons with Mama.”

“Ah! I see,” said Captain Jones. “Did the pianoforte belong to your mother?”

“Yes.” Emma smiled fondly. “She was an accomplished player. I don’t play half so well as her.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Captain Jones responded. “You play remarkably well.”

“Thank you. I feel closer to her whenever I play the pianoforte,” she confessed.

“I’m sure your mother would be proud,” he said, gently.

Emma’s lips trembled. She did not trust herself to reply.

Ingrid and Mary Margaret returned home at that point, and after Mary Margaret had taken a few minutes to admire Bill and make a fuss over him, Captain Jones left.

***

Ingrid and Mary Margaret had been curious to see Captain Jones in a tête-à-tête with Emma, but Emma had shrugged off their suspicious looks, only telling them that he had helped her with her music and that they had not noticed the passage of time. For a reason Emma could not quite articulate even to herself, she did not want her relations making too much of their interactions or teasing her.

Emma’s determination to stave off Ingrid’s and Mary Margaret’s curiosity was not to last long, however. The captain called not many days after to issue an invitation to dine at Misthaven Abbey. Emma, whose interest in seeing the Abbey had revived since her recent encounter with Captain Jones, was pleased. On the afternoon of the dinner, she spent more time on her toilette than she had in months. The outfit she had chosen—a pale green muslin gown with emerald green knot-work—was a recent acquisition from London, and brought out the color of her eyes. Mary Margaret helped Emma braid her hair while she sat at the dressing table and held up a second mirror so Emma could see how her hairdo looked from behind and decide where the decorative hairpins were to go.

“You look very pretty,” said Mary Margaret, putting away the mirror once Emma was satisfied with the way her hair looked.

“Thank you!” said Emma, her eyes crinkling with a smile.

Mary Margaret gazed at her sister consideringly. “I suppose there was no particular reason why you spent the past two days deciding what to wear?”

Emma colored. “No reason at all.”

Mary Margaret gave Emma a knowing smile and stepped away to complete her own dressing.

Captain Jones sent his coach to pick up Miss White and the Miss Blanchards at three, in order to accommodate a short tour of the Abbey before dinner. Emma kept fidgeting all through the drive, looking out through the window one minute, and rearranging the folds of her gown the next, until the carriage turned away from the main road. A narrower path led to the open gates of the Abbey, and they entered a drive lined with an avenue of beech trees on either side. Even though it was almost the end of April, the late Spring-frosts had delayed their leafing out, and the branches were just putting out lime green young leaflets. There was a delicate smell of wet earth about them from a rain shower earlier that day and the trees and the shrubbery all around looked freshly washed and sparkling.

They alighted from the carriage and stood a minute gazing up at the great stone edifice of the Abbey. It was a large handsome building, with many turrets and windows. Robert Gould had probably spent a tenth part of his income merely to pay the window tax every year, thought Emma wryly. The vestibule was large and had doors leading away from it on either side. In its center stood a grand staircase that led upstairs. The footman led them through the left-hand door and into the drawing room, where Captain Jones was waiting to receive them. He rose and welcomed them cordially. Emma suddenly felt conscious of the short sleeves of her gown as the captain’s eyes lingered on her person. Perhaps noting her heightened color, Capitan Jones cleared his throat and moved to introduce the only other occupant in the room.

“Miss White, Miss Blanchard, Miss Emma, may I present Admiral Nemo?”

Admiral Nemo made a courtly bow. So, this was the gentleman who had stood by Captain Jones through many of his distresses. Emma formed a favorable impression of the admiral at first glance. He was tall and well-built, with a ruddy complexion, and eyes that crinkled in a kindly fashion when he smiled. Though bald, he wore no wig.

Mentioning that Mrs. Gould would join them at five, Captain Jones offered to show the rest of the party around the Abbey in the meantime. The idea was met with enthusiasm, and they set off. Emma wondered at Mrs. Gould’s exclusion from the tour, until she remembered that she used to live here at the Abbey as its mistress, and appreciated the captain’s delicacy.

“The Abbey dates back to the twelfth century, though most of the front quadrangle has been rebuilt within the last century or two,” Captain Jones said as he led them back to the vestibule and through the door across into a lofty passage. “But I believe successive architects did manage to preserve the architectural style of the original.”

Several doors were set along the left wall of the passage, which, though narrow, was well-lit with wall sconces every few meters.

The lived-in areas of the house, which consisted of the drawing room they had just vacated, a couple of parlors, the captain’s study, and the principal bedrooms in the second floor, had been refitted after the captain had taken possession of the Abbey. Though modernized, their style harmonized with the older furnishings that had been left untouched in the less-used rooms of the Abbey.

This was all in opposition to Neal’s insinuations. Whether he had deliberately lied or if his bitterness against the captain had led him to blow up every little alteration that had been instituted was debatable. Emma wondered, not without some humor, if her own and her sister’s less than positive feelings regarding the renovations at Locksley would be regarded in a similar light by people unconnected with their family.

“I see you’re not one of those who believe in stripping an old building of its character in the name of ‘improvements’, Captain,” Ingrid commented.

Captain Jones gave a small smile. “I had a deal of trouble convincing the architect to show restraint.”

“I’m glad,” said Emma, softly. “Anything else would have jarred with the character of the building.”

Captain Jones looked pleased at her compliment.

The portrait gallery had a long line of pictures that wrapped around the walls of the room; Emma recognized the features of Belle, looking a little younger, in one of the frames nearest to the door. Emma’s eyes automatically fell on the picture frame next to it. Robert Gould’s name was inscribed on the plaque below. It was a full-figure depiction of the man standing in open air, the silhouette of the Abbey faintly visible in the background. He was leaning on a gold-tipped cane and there was an expression of hauteur and disdain on his face. On the right side of the picture was the portrait of another woman. With a shock, Emma read the plaque as that of the first Mrs. Gould—Milah, the woman whom Captain Jones had loved and lost. 

Milah Gould was a pretty, dark-haired woman with coppery highlights brought out by the skill of the artist. The burnish was heightened by some metal hair clips that kept stray locks in place. Her eyelashes were thick and framed eyes that held a hint of mischief. 

Captain Jones came and stood by Emma. Emma glanced at him sideways. He scratched behind his ear—a gesture Emma had come to recognize as signifying nervousness. She recollected the last time Milah had been named between them and blushed in shame at the memory. Wanting the captain to know that she had changed her perceptions regarding the matter, Emma took a deep breath and murmured, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier about...” She made a small gesture towards Milah’s painting. “I was a fool to have ever believed him over anything.”

Captain Jones’s face visibly brightened and he gave her a shaky, grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss Emma.”

A little embarrassed, Emma turned her face towards the picture once more. After a moment, she said, “She was beautiful.”

“Yes, she was,” came the wistful reply.

Emma’s heart gave a pang. It was evident that her loss still pained him. The rest of the party moved closer to them.

“Where’s your portrait, Captain?” Mary Margaret asked him.

“I don’t have one, Miss Blanchard,” he replied with a smile.

“Killian thinks he’s above such trivialities,” Admiral Nemo said in a gently teasing voice. “But I tell him, his children will want to see how he looked when he was young.”

Captain Jones reddened and he gave a quick glance at Emma, which made her blush in turn when she realized that Mary Margaret had caught that brief exchange. Flustered, Emma walked out of the door and the others followed. Seeing that it was close to five, they all trooped back to the drawing room to await the arrival of Belle.

Admiral Nemo was the principal spokesman during dinner. He had traveled extensively and his naval career was illustrious. When he disclosed that he had been born in colonial India, Emma wondered if the darker hue of his complexion was owed to something more than just his long service in the navy.

“By the by, Killian, if you do not wish to return to the sea speedily, I would advise you to stay put in the country,” said Admiral Nemo, after a lull in the conversation. “There’s every chance of you getting roped into something that’s brewing if you show your face in London.”

“I always long to be at sea.” Captain Jones dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “But I have no wish to leave the country at present. So, I thank you for the warning, Admiral.”

Emma felt relieved on hearing that the captain was not planning to leave Misthaven in the near future, and then was surprised at herself for her reaction.

“I hope this doesn’t signal that the French wars aren’t ended, Admiral,” said Belle, with a wry smile.

“There’s nothing to fear in that quarter, madam.” Admiral Nemo made a reassuring gesture. “This is about some troublesome conditions at the Algiers.”

“And our country wishes to stick its nose where it doesn’t belong, as per usual.” Ingrid completed.

Emma snorted.

“Rather an unpatriotic thing to say in front of two officers of the navy, madam,” said the admiral, turning to face Ingrid with an arched brow.

“But not untrue, you must own, Admiral,” returned Ingrid, with a smile.

The two stared at each other for a few moments. Emma and Mary Margaret exchanged a surprised look.

After a moment, the deadlock broke. The admiral inclined his head with the hint of a smile. “I concede with good grace.”

“You need not fear any reprisals, Miss White.” Captain Jones grinned. “The admiral’s opinion is not too far removed from your own, though he’s too much of an old Empire stalwart to admit to it openly.”

Everyone laughed.

“And what of you, Captain?” Emma gave him an arch look.

“Oh, the admiral knows I’m too much of an irreverent dev…er…fellow to care,” Captain Jones finished.

Emma bit her lip to hide her smile at the captain’s near slip into sailor parlance.

After dinner, Captain Jones and the Admiral forwent the usual dining etiquette, and accompanied the ladies back to the drawing room. The captain was too well-bred to leave the ladies to entertain themselves while he swilled port wine in the dining room. Tea and coffee were brought in, and after some pleasantries, Captain Jones came up to Emma with smiling civility and requested her for music. Emma had expected the summons, and yet, she could not help feeling a flutter of pleasure on receiving it, and assented to his request with alacrity.

At the end of her first piece, she received the usual praise and requests to continue, but Admiral Nemo had something more to add.

“Killian, I have not heard you sing in a long time. Won’t you indulge an old friend?” Turning to Emma, he added. “I hope you will not take my request amiss, Miss Emma. I assure you—Killian will not disgrace you with his accompaniment.”

Emma looked at the captain with interest. She knew that he used to play the piano, but had not guessed that he also used to sing. “I would be honored,” said Emma.

“I haven’t sung in a long time.” Captain Jones demurred. He shrugged his shoulders a little uncomfortably.

When the others added their importunities, he gave in. After a brief consultation, he and Emma settled on John Newton's “Amazing Grace” as arranged by the composer John Husband.

_“Amazing grace! How sweet the sound_

_That saved a wretch like me._

_I once was lost, but now am found,_

_Was blind but now I see._ _”_

Captain Jones was a high tenor, and his voice blended with Emma’s sweet soprano to produce a mellifluous rendition of the piece. When they reached the end of the song, the captain turned away slightly and Emma saw him brush his hand over his eyes. Emma was curious at his little display of emotion, but wasn’t sure if he would welcome her curiosity in the matter. All were full of appreciation and requested another song from them. Emma was pleased when the captain assented. She did not often get the opportunity to sing duets, especially with someone who sang so well.

The next activity was to be a surprise. Captain Jones instructed everyone to wrap up warmly, and insisted on supplying additional shawls and coats. He refused to answer any of their enquiries other than to say that they needed to be prepared to climb a lot of steps. Curiosity burning, Emma and the others followed the captain up to one of the turrets on the back quadrangle of the building. This part of the Abbey still had some of the original structure intact, though it had been subsequently well-reinforced. While Emma did not jump to the conclusion that skeletons of long-dead prisoners lurked in hidden chambers within its ancient walls, it felt as though she was walking back in time.

Captain Jones pulled out a key from his pocket, unlocked and opened the door of the tower room, holding it open for the party to enter. Emma gasped when she beheld the contents of the room. There were two telescopes there, one of which was rather large in size. Indeed, a section of the wall had been removed to enable the arm of the instrument to protrude outside. Emma now got the reason for all the wraps and shawls.

“Is that…a Herschel telescope?” asked Belle in an astonished voice.

The captain bowed.

Emma walked up to the smaller telescope and peered through it. It was pointed in the direction of the sea, but everything was too blurry. She turned to Captain Jones. He came over to her side.

“The image is not clear.” Emma pointed to the lens.

She stepped aside. Captain Jones looked through the eyepiece and made some adjustments. Straightening, he directed her try again, showing her how to adjust the barrel to make the image sharper. Emma caught the faint bouquet of citrus and sage as she stepped closer, the scent now mingled with the salty tang of the sea. Tiny goosebumps erupted in her skin as she bent down. The captain had trained the telescope on the moon. Emma saw the pale yellow disc set like a beacon amidst the twinkling stars. “Oh, it’s so pretty!” she said excitedly. 

Captain Jones smiled at her enthusiasm. “May I?” he asked.

Emma stepped to the side once more. The captain turned the barrel of the instrument down towards the sea, and after a few moments, directed her to take over. Emma peered through the barrel once more, but it was too dark to discern anything.

“Wait a moment, Miss Emma,” he instructed, as Emma made as if to speak. So, she waited, wondering what she would see. In a few moments, a beam of light cut through the night sky, faintly illuminating the waves as it arced across the waters.

Emma gasped. “The lighthouse! Oh, how beautiful!” she cried and glanced at the captain. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

“I’m glad you find the sight pleasing.” He smiled. “There is nothing that brings tranquility like the sight of a full moon on the waves.”

“You can tell the ocean your secrets, but the question is whether the ocean will tell you hers,” said Admiral Nemo, walking up to them.

“Indeed,” said Captain Jones.

Emma looked through the telescope for a few moments longer and then gave way to the others, who had all collected around them by now.

Captain Jones took her over to the larger telescope next and spent some time in pointing out various stars and constellations. For the next hour, they spent their time in raptures over the night sky, alternating between the two telescopes. Emma was enchanted by it all. By the time they returned home, it was very late, and yet, Emma could not stop thinking of Captain Jones as she sat in front of the dressing table and pulled out hairpins and combs, her hair tumbling down in a golden cascade. She lifted the simple gold chain from around her neck and placed it carefully in a box and stashed it in a drawer of the dressing table. As she was about to close the drawer shut, her eyes caught sight of the edge of a linen handkerchief. It was the one Captain Jones had given her in London at the theater. She took it out and passed a gentle hand over the embroidered initials, thinking about the owner of that scrap of cloth.

Emma could no longer deny that she liked, respected, and even admired the captain. She had foolishly let her initial, favorable impression of him be poisoned by Neal Cassidy’s invectives and was now heartily ashamed of how badly she had misjudged the two men. Neal’s open manners and confident assertions had led her into trusting him, while the captain’s more reserved manners had made her wary. However, when she thought back over the course of her acquaintance with both men, it was Neal and not the captain who had abused her trust. There were warning signs right from the start—Neal had led her into behavior that she knew was improper, but had chosen to ignore because it gave her a thrill to indulge in them. Considering Neal’s disgraceful treatment of Wendy Jones, Emma supposed she ought to be thankful that he had not crossed the line beyond stealing a kiss from her. Emma unconsciously wiped her lips with the handkerchief, and then realizing what she had done, laughed slightly.

Emma was not fool enough to ignore the fact that the captain regarded her with a certain degree of admiration, but he had remained unmarried in the decade since the death of the woman he had loved, and he was evidently still not over the pain of that loss. Would he contemplate matrimony now, even with the spark of attraction and pull between them? Besides, Captain Jones had a wide life-experience, while she had lived a mostly sheltered existence. Would such a man be seriously interested in her? Emma did not wish to rush into any conclusions at present. She was unsure of her own feelings, and thought it unwise to encourage any expectations in her mind. She would proceed more cautiously this time and not imagine herself engaged before their courtship had even begun, she thought wryly.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! :-)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt. @captainswanandclintasha has made yet another gorgeous picset for chapters 11 and 12. Do check it out on tumblr! And now to the chapter...

Admiral Nemo stayed for a fortnight at the Abbey. Captain Jones had planned several schemes to entertain his friend during his short sojourn. The ladies of Arendell Cottage, along with some other friends of the captain, took part in many of the entertainments.

During an early morning exploring party to a scenic spot on a hill, Admiral Nemo happened to catch Emma when she was a little behind the others as they trekked up a gentle slope. After making some casual remark, he said in a graver tone, “Miss Emma, if Killian has shared even a small part of his past with you, you must know that he has seen a great deal of loss.”

Emma nodded dumbly, her heart rate speeding up a little.

“You see—the navy has been a refuge for him to escape the demons hounding at his heels. But it’s no place to build a new life.” The admiral gave a small self-deprecatory laugh. “And Killian has come to realize that.”

Emma’s eyes strayed to where Captain Jones was standing some ways ahead, his profile silhouetted in the mist.

Admiral Nemo paused for a moment, as though collecting his thoughts. “And I know the one thing he craves most of all.”

“What is that?” Emma asked in a whisper, meeting the admiral’s eyes.

“Family.”

“Oh.”

“I haven’t seen Killian so cheerful and hopeful in years—not since his early days as a lieutenant.” Admiral Nemo paused for a breath. “But he’s too much of a gentleman to proceed without at least a little bit of encouragement.”

Emma’s color rose.

Admiral Nemo glanced at Captain Jones with an affectionate smile. “My greatest wish for him is that he gets a second chance for a family and domestic life, and for which, in my partial opinion, he is extremely fitted for.”

And giving Emma an affable smile, Admiral Nemo walked on.

At first Emma half-felt offended at the admiral’s hint, but some minutes of reflection made her feel the justice of his remarks. She had been so bent on protecting her own heart, that she had not really thought about the other side of the equation. She had assumed that if the captain was truly interested in her, he would show it plainly. But she was not the only one who had been hurt in the past. And being aware of her own recent heartbreak, Captain Jones was not the kind of man to push his suit forward unless she gave him a reason to do so. 

A short while later, when Captain Jones reached out to help her up a steep inclination, Emma could not help feeling that she was taking a decisive step as she smiled at him and placed her hand in his.

Captain Jones had arranged for a picnic on the Abbey grounds on the day before the admiral’s departure. The captain was at the door of the Abbey to meet Emma, Mary Margaret, and Ingrid—each with parasol in hand—and escorted them to a pond. Admiral Nemo, Belle, and Mr. Scarlett were on the shore, fishing.

Mary Margaret decided to try her hand at fishing, and picking up some tackle, she joined the others. Ingrid stretched out on one of the numerous blankets spread out on the ground and took out a book. Emma picked up a book as well, but stood watching the others fish for a few minutes. After making sure that his guests were supplied with what they needed, Captain Jones sat down in front of an easel with a piece of parchment spread out on it and picked up a pencil.

Emma approached him, a delicate flutter in her heart. She had been pondering over Admiral Nemo’s hint over the course of the last few days. While she was not ready to admit that she positively desired the captain’s addresses, she did know that her heart was beginning to feel a strong inclination for his company.

“Did they teach you to draw in the Royal Navy, Captain?” she teased. “In between music lessons and battle strategies?”

The captain twinkled at her. “The Naval education is surprisingly comprehensive.”

“Would you mind if I kept you company for a while?” said Emma. “Or would I be intruding?”

“You will not be intruding in the least!” he assured her, looking pleased. He gestured at his sketch. “I’m having a deal of trouble with the shading, and would welcome a diversion.”

Emma gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. “Is that all I am good for? As a diversion?”

Captain Jones arched his brows. “It does not follow that the diversion is an unwelcome one.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Emma grinned. “May I see what you’re drawing?” From her vantage point, she could just barely discern a hazy outline of the scene before them beginning to take shape.

“I would rather you looked at the finished product.” He tilted his head and gave her a small smile. “No amateur likes his art being critiqued in its nascent state.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Emma, smiling and stepping aside. She sat down on a blanket close to him. “But I could hardly help sneaking a peek at a masterpiece when it was right before my eyes.”

“I do not blame you.” He smirked and gestured at himself. “I’m much too dashing to ignore.”

Emma pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. “You, sir, think a little too highly of yourself!”

“That is part of my charm.”

Emma smiled and rolled her eyes, a delicate blush covering her cheeks. She felt a little surprised at her own boldness in teasing the captain, but found herself enjoying his flirtatious response. She sat for some moments observing the beauty of the pond. Shafts of light escaped scudding clouds overhead and danced across the glimmering surface of the waters. Two swans were swimming at the other end, their graceful long necks twining in a sort of delicate dance. This was certainly a very picturesque scene. Emma could see why Captain Jones had been tempted to capture it.

“I wonder if those are the same swans we saw last year,” Emma wondered aloud. 

Captain Jones threw her an amused glance. “They could be. Swans mate for life, you know?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Soon, there may be more baby swans for you to rescue, Miss Emma.”

Emma huffed out a laugh. She opened her book, but the page did not hold her attention. From where she sat, she commanded a full view of Captain Jones as he worked. There was grace and strength in arm as his fingers flew across the paper. The warm afternoon sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy above cast delicate patterns on his face, highlighting the ginger tint in his stubble. He blinked his eyes and frowned in concentration. Emma noticed how long and dark his eyelashes were as they fluttered against his cheeks. An errant lock of hair escaped its brethren and fell across his forehead. Emma felt an overwhelming urge to straighten it. Edging away from the dangerous train of thought, she dropped her gaze lower. Captain Jones had taken off his coat and loosened his neck cloth. The top two buttons of his shirt had come undone, a few dark curls peeking through the gap. At that moment, the man himself looked up and met her eyes. Emma turned brick red and quickly averted her gaze, embarrassed at having been caught staring.

Emma was now beginning to better understand Captain Jones’s disposition. The last two weeks had revealed a new side of the captain that had been hidden from her hitherto. In his interactions with the admiral, he seemed much younger, and in a sense more open and vulnerable. It made him appear less like the remote and reserved sailor she had perceived him to be. He was a man of deep thoughts and feelings, which in turn made him not an easy man to get to know. However, the friendship and respect that was evident between himself and Admiral Nemo spoke to the strong bonds Captain Jones was capable of forming with other people. Even the present Mrs. Gould—who perhaps had as much a reason as Neal to dislike the captain—liked and respected him.

Wanting to know more about him, she hesitantly began, “Captain Jones. May I ask you something?”

“Should I be prepared for an unpleasant conversation?” He gave an arch look that made Emma’s stomach do a little flip.

Ingrid had fallen asleep, and the others were too immersed in their activities to hear them, but still, Emma lowered her voice a little and asked, “Did you join the navy because of your brother?”

Captain Jones was silent for a few moments. “That wasn’t the original plan,” he said, at last. “My brother had gone into service when he was fourteen, but my mother didn’t want to be parted from both her sons, so I stayed behind.”

“What happened?”

“She died when I was twelve. Liam was away at sea at the time and couldn’t come back for the funeral. We got a letter from him saying that his ship would be docking at Portsmouth in a month’s time. My father took me there, ostensibly to welcome Liam home.” Captain Jones gestured helplessly. “A week later, he abandoned me at a tavern and took off, God knows where.”

“How terrible!” Emma cried, shocked out of politeness.

Captain Jones grimaced.

“He’d started drinking heavily after my mother died and gotten into debt. He ran to escape his creditors, and I suppose he didn’t want to be saddled with another mouth to feed,” he replied with a careless shrug that was belied by the dark flash in his eyes. “I waited for days for my father to return, before finally realizing that he was not coming back. The tavern owner took pity on me and let me sleep on the premises. That’s where Liam found me when he landed in Portsmouth two weeks later.”

“Your brother must have been so distressed!” said Emma.

“He was devastated. He couldn’t be there for our mother’s last days, and now my father had saddled him with the responsibility of taking care of me, though Liam never spoke of it that way.” Captain Jones shrugged and continued his pencil strokes. “His captain was willing to take me on as a ship’s boy, and I was only too happy to be with my brother.”

Emma nodded in understanding. The death of their parents and all the heartbreak she and Mary Margaret had faced would have been a hundred times worse if they had not had each other.

“Did you ever see your father after that?”

“No. When I returned to England in ‘11, I heard that he’d died in a debtor’s prison up north.”

What could one say in reply to that?

The captain continued, “Naval service was no sinecure, I admit, but it wasn’t terrible. Being with my brother gave me the strength to get through the rough patches. We were very lucky to not be separated as we advanced through the ranks.” Captain Jones smiled. “It was the proudest moment of my life when Liam was made a captain and I got to serve as a lieutenant under his command.”

Emma smiled at the wistful expression on Captain Jones’s face. She could see through the hardened naval captain to the proud young lieutenant who had idolized his older brother. He had so much passion for the sea life, Emma could not understand why he would willingly stay away now.

“How can you bear living in the country?” she wondered aloud.

Killian smiled crookedly. “Does this seem an irreconcilable contrast to my naval life?”

“Honestly, it does! You have lived a fascinating life. Doesn’t managing a country estate seem dull to you in comparison?”

Captain Jones tapped his pencil against the paper. “After I was sent to the Indies, I lost myself to darkness for a period. At times, I didn’t know if I believed in God or the devil more. Then Robert Gould died, and I was left with nothing.” He paused, frowning down at his lap with unseeing eyes. Emma could not help connecting this explanation to his emotional reaction to the lines of “Amazing Grace” the other night. He continued after a few moments, “I suppose I needed an object, and taking on the management of the estate seemed as good a venture as anything. In a way, it felt like a fitting revenge to make a success out of something Gould had ruined. Besides, I wanted to give a home to Wendy. I think all of this helped me turn away from the self-indulgent thoughts of vengeance I had been nurturing.”

Emma’s expression sobered, thinking of the poor girl and her infant child. She awkwardly enquired after them. After assuring her of their welfare, Captain Jones added, “I would dearly love to bring her and her child back to the Abbey, but I do not know how that can be done without exposing her to unpleasant talk and worse in the neighborhood.”

Emma shook her head in commiseration. Society was only too apt to punish women severely for stepping outside of accepted norms, while men usually got away with everything. Her thoughts flew to Neal Cassidy. She wondered how his married life was turning out. Did he spare a thought to the girl whose prospects he had blighted?

Servants appeared carrying tables, tablecloths and napkins, cutlery, and a variety of refreshing food and drink. Soon, all the party were collected by the tables, chattering and filling their plates with pie, cucumber sandwiches, blueberries, cut slices of peaches, and rolls. After the al fresco meal, Emma exchanged places with Mary Margaret with the fishing pole. The admiral kindly instructed her in proper fishing techniques, and soon Emma was enjoying herself immensely. This was certainly a very pleasant way to spend the afternoon. The scratch of the captain’s pencil across the sheet of paper coming from behind harmonized with the rustle of leaves, bird calls, the splash of the fishing lines hitting the water, and the occasion yell of triumph at a successful bite.

Soon, it was time to return home. The fishing gear and blankets were placed in carts for the servants to collect. Captain Jones folded up his easel and started to roll up his drawing.

“Wait,” said Emma. Pointing to the paper, she asked, “May I?”

Captain Jones hesitated a moment, and then handed it to her. She felt his gaze as she unrolled the sheet and took in the scene depicted on it. It was the same sketch she had seen the hazy beginnings of earlier that afternoon; it was very nearly finished now. The interplay of light and shadow on the waters had been brought to life with expert shading; the two swans were depicted in the background, their arched necks meeting at their beaks to form the shape of a heart. Delicate strokes filled in the grass and trees edging the pond. But there was an unexpected addition in the foreground—a representation of herself, fishing. Her face was in profile, half-turned to the water, her bonnet on the ground to one side. Captain Jones had deviated on one point from a faithful portrayal—her hair, instead of being pinned up into a neat bun as it actually was, cascaded down her back in waves, and yet pushed to one side just enough to grant a fleeting glimpse of the delicate curve of her neck. Emma raised startled eyes to the captain, heart thudding furiously in her chest.

“Have I offended you, Miss Emma?” Captain Jones asked, looking searchingly at her.

Emma shook her head, utterly unable to say a word.

“That’s alright, then.” He gave a mischievous smile and gently pried the sheet of paper from her hand. “I would have despaired otherwise.”

Emma’s eyes fluttered. She quickly turned away and fastened her bonnet, her cheeks aglow.

Without comment, Captain Jones finished rolling up his drawing. He was delayed by Mr. Scarlett, who stopped to consult him over something.

The other ladies had walked on and Emma hastened to follow them. Ingrid and Mary Margaret were mostly silent in the ride home, for which Emma was thankful. She could think of nothing but Captain Jones’s drawing and her conversation with him.

***

Emma could not help feeling a little melancholy in thinking that the frequency of her meetings with Captain Jones would decrease now that Admiral Nemo had departed. However, an event soon occurred that pushed all self-indulgent thoughts to the back of her mind, and focused her attention on her sister. Mrs. Lucas sent a note one morning, along with a letter addressed to herself. Ingrid opened the note and skimmed through it. Her expression immediately turned grave. She gave a quick glance at Mary Margaret, then at Emma.

Emma and Mary Margaret set down their work.

“What is it, cousin?” Mary Margaret asked. “Is it bad news?”

“Mrs. Lucas has received a letter from her cousin, Miss West.” Ingrid paused, grimaced, and continued, “I should say, rather, Mrs. Spencer. For apparently, she is married now.”

Emma gave a start and her eyes quickly flicked to her sister. She saw the blood drain from Mary Margaret’s face and she swayed in her seat. Emma rushed to her sister’s side and placed an arm around her shoulders. Ingrid poured out a glass of water and brought it to her.

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” she said soothingly, as she sat down on Mary Margaret’s other side.

Mary Margaret took a few sips of water and soon recovered some of her color.

Emma craned her neck a little to look at Ingrid. “Does Mrs. Lucas know for sure? Could you read Kelly’s letter, cousin?”

Ingrid unfolded the letter Mrs. Lucas had enclosed with her note and opened it. She read aloud. “‘My dear Mrs. Lucas, It gives me great joy to inform you that I am now married. You have always been so kind to me, that I felt it to be my duty to write to you immediately.’” Emma sucked in a sharp breath. Mary Margaret remained silent. Ingrid continued. “‘Mr. Spencer and I are on our way to Plymouth for our honeymoon. We hope to pay our respects to you at Misthaven shortly.’ The next section of the letter contains details about the wedding and more effusions in praise of Mrs. Lucas.” Ingrid paused and raised her eyes to meet Emma’s and Mary Margaret’s. “There is a message for you two in the postscript.”

Emma seethed. “Of course there is. She probably wrote to Mrs. Lucas on purpose knowing she would show us the letter.”

Ingrid read on. “‘Kindly convey my best regards to Miss Blanchard and Miss Emma. I am sure they will be happy on hearing this news.’”

Mary Margaret abruptly stood up. “I would like to be alone for some time,” she said, without meeting their eyes. She ran up the stairs and the bedroom door banged shut. Feeling sick to the stomach herself, Emma stared helplessly at Ingrid. Through all the difficult times they had been through over the course of the past twelve months, Mary Margaret had always been the stronger one of the two. The elder sister who had soothed and comforted her in her unhappiness and supported her when she had been angry or upset. Too preoccupied with her own heartbreak, Emma hadn’t realized that Mary Margaret’s sufferings had been as bad as hers or perhaps, worse, as David was certainly worthy of regret, unlike Neal Cassidy.

“Give her time, my dear,” said Ingrid, patting her shoulder. “Even if the marriage is something she has been expecting, the first intimation of it was bound to be a shock.”

“I suppose neither of us expected that they would marry this soon,” said Emma, still in a daze. “I had no notion but they would wait for David to get settled in as the rector here.”

Ingrid shook her head in sympathy. “From what you’ve let fall about this woman, she seems the kind of person who would be quick to consolidate her advantageous position.”

Emma had long forgiven David for his secrecy and deception over his engagement to Kelly West. Time and distance had enabled her to see his mistakes in a much softer light. Even if he had not behaved in a strictly proper manner when it came to Mary Margaret, he was no rake. He had been weak, but he had not meant to sport with Mary Margaret’s feelings. That he would face being cut out of his inheritance to stand up for a woman Emma was certain he had stopped caring for staggered her. A different kind of man, when faced with the same situation, would not have stuck to his commitment. But David was too honorable to break the engagement, and Emma pitied him for the lifelong penance he would now have to endure being married to an insincere woman. She could not help feeling that her own life would have turned out even more miserable had she married Neal Cassidy, especially if she became aware of his callous treatment of Wendy Jones, and shuddered at the thought.

After some time, Emma went upstairs with a tea tray and knocked on their bedroom door. “Mary Margaret, I’ve brought you some tea.” Her sister did not reply, but Emma could hear the tiny creak of the bed as she moved. “I’ll leave it outside.”

Leaving the tray to the right of the door, Emma slowly went downstairs, her heart aching for her sister.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I would love to hear your thoughts. :-)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt and to @captainswanandclintasha for all her gorgeous picsets!

Mary Margaret felt a constant weight pressing down on her chest in the days following the receipt of Kelly’s letter. She had mistakenly assumed that the knowledge of David’s honorable behavior towards Kelly West would be enough to suppress the majority of her heartache in the event of their marriage. But that was not the case. Loving someone she couldn’t ever be with was not an easy burden to bear. In her heart of hearts, Mary Margaret realized that she had been half-expecting the engagement to be broken off by some means or the other. Kelly West had waited for four years for David to open the matter to his family, and finally losing patience, had done it herself, to disastrous effect. She had mistaken Regina’s agreeable treatment of her for real fondness, not realizing that part of Regina’s motivation had been to spite her sisters-in-law. Kelly had obviously not anticipated Lady Spencer’s complete obduracy in the matter of her stepson’s engagement. She would most definitely have not expected David to be cast out practically penniless into the streets. Mary Margaret was ashamed to admit that she had expected Kelly to break her engagement to David when things came to such a dire pass.

Would a woman who truly loved hold a man to his engagement under such circumstances? Especially knowing that her betrothed had formed an attachment to someone else, but was only sticking with her because they felt honor-bound to it? Mary Margaret did not think she would be capable of marrying someone if she had been placed in a similar situation. But then, she had never been as wanting for money as Kelly West had been. Mary Margaret wanted to give the new Mrs. Spencer the benefit of the doubt, but for once in her life, she was finding it extremely difficult to do so. Because, in this instance, David’s long-term happiness was involved.

And to compound everything, they would be here within a few short weeks to take up residence at the parsonage and begin their new life. Captain Jones had received a letter from David informing him that he had taken ordination and would soon be able to assume his position as rector. Mary Margaret had been dreading David’s arrival at Misthaven ever since. Now, with Kelly’s added presence right from the start, it was going to be ten times more awkward and painful to meet with David in the round of normal social life. Mrs. Lucas had called in her kindly and enthusiastic fashion to talk over Kelly and David’s marriage and how social life in Misthaven would be affected by the addition of the newly married couple. Thankfully, Emma and Cousin Ingrid had skillfully directed Mrs. Lucas’s remarks away from herself. Indeed, her sister and cousin had tried to offer her every manner of comfort in their power, and their affectionate solicitude had kept Mary Margaret from sinking deeper into her state of despair.

One morning about a week later, she, Emma, and Ingrid were in the parlor, variously occupied, when they heard the rumble of a carriage approaching the cottage.

Emma got up and peered out of the window. She gasped and quickly turned to look at the other two.

“Who is it?” Mary Margaret asked, following her sister to the window. She looked. She saw David drawing to a halt in front of the cottage on his gig. Without a word, she went back to her chair and sat down. She heard Emma and Ingrid whispering to each other in the background, but Mary Margaret’s mind was a whirl of confusion. Had he and Mrs. Spencer arrived at Misthaven? Was David making the first social call alone so as to avoid awkwardness?

After a few moments, she heard the knock at front door, and Ashley rushing to open it. In another instant, the parlor door was being thrown open, and David was announced into the room. David made an awkward bow comprehending all of them and sat down almost at the edge of a chair. For some moments, nobody spoke.

Ingrid took the initiative to break the ice. “How good to see you, Mr. Spencer. I take this opportunity to wish you joy.”

David flushed, and then mumbled something, but Mary Margaret had no idea of the actual words he had spoken.

“Have you come to Misthaven to see if the parsonage is ready for occupation?” Ingrid continued.

“No…Yes…That is…” David stumbled. He paused, cleared his throat, and continued, “I do plan to call on Captain Jones and look over the parsonage.”

“You have left Mrs. Spencer well, I hope,” said Mary Margaret, determined to make normal conversation. “Is she still at Plymouth?”

“You mean, Lady Spencer?” David was frowning. “My stepmother is in London.”

“Mary Margaret was inquiring after your wife,” said Emma, jumping in. Mary Margaret felt grateful to her sister for making the explanation.

“My wife?” David stared at the three occupants of the room in turn. He shot up from his seat and walked to the window. After a few moments, he turned to face them and said. “I see you have not heard the news. I thought…”

“What news?” asked Emma. Once again, Mary Margaret was glad that Emma was taking the initiative to hold the conversation, as she herself was unable to articulate a single word.

“Miss West married my brother Walsh last week.”

“What?” Emma burst out. Mary Margaret was sure that Emma’s almost ludicrous expression of astonishment was mirrored on her face. She fixed her eyes on David.

David kneaded his hands together. “Miss West wrote to me saying that she had dissolved our engagement and married my brother. The notice of their wedding appeared in the principal London papers two days ago.”

Mary Margaret pressed a hand to her mouth. The oppressive knot of sorrow and pain she had been carrying since November of last year suddenly loosened as the enormity of David’s news crashed down upon her at once. Past embarrassment, Mary Margaret could not keep down the sobs of relief that burst out any more than she could have stopped the birds from singing. In a haze she saw Emma and Ingrid stand up and leave the room. A linen handkerchief was pressed into her hands. Soon, Mary Margaret had composed herself enough to stop sobbing, though she could still not help the tears that continued to stream down her face.

David was kneeling in front of her, tears sparkling in his eyes, which did not dim the brilliant smile on his lips. He took her trembling hands in his.

“ _You have tarried long,_ ” quoted Mary Margaret, a tiny laugh breaking through her tears.

David huffed out a laugh at the shared memory. The tears slipped from his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He said, “I was too young and impulsive when I entered into the foolish engagement with Miss West. I am neither of those now. Miss Blanchard—Mary Margaret—I love you with all my heart and with all my rational convictions.” He paused to take out a ring from his pocket. It was the same peridot ring that Kelly had shown her as proof of her engagement to David. “This belonged to my mother. She said true affection followed the ring. I do not know if she found that with my father. But I know that I have found it in you. Mary Margaret, will you marry me?”

Mary Margaret’s smile lit up the whole room. “Yes, David. I will.”

David grinned. He put the ring in her finger and rose, lifting Mary Margaret to her feet. Taking her in his arms, he crushed his lips to hers. The sweetest sensations flooded Mary Margaret, and she lost herself to them as she kissed the man she had loved so deeply and with so little hope.

Emma and Ingrid, no longer able to wait patiently outside, banged on the door. Laughing, Mary Margaret broke off from David and called out, “Come in.”

She held out her hand to her sister and cousin, showing her ring, as they rushed to embrace her, and then, David. The next hour was a joyous and confused blur of laughter, tears, inadequate explanations, and celebratory toasts. The servants were told of the good news as well, and Mrs. Patmore made her special Chantilly cake for tea.

When Mary Margaret and David got some time to themselves the next day, they had the opportunity to finally talk openly about his previous engagement with Kelly West.

“When my father died, I felt adrift,” said David. “My stepmother was never very outwardly affectionate—not just towards me, you understand. It is just not in her nature to be demonstrative.”

Mary Margaret nodded. “Robin got engaged around the time your father died, as I recall. So, Regina and your stepmother were probably preoccupied with the wedding preparations and settlements as well.”

David nodded. “My tutor at Oxford saw how much my father’s death was affecting me, and invited me to stay with him frequently. Miss West was always very kind and attentive whenever I visited, and…” He made an expressive gesture.

“You don’t have to explain any further.” Mary Margaret gave an understanding smile. “You were young and in need of kindness at the time, and naturally you gravitated towards the people who were offering it.”

David sighed. “By the time I graduated from Oxford and started mixing more in society, I began to doubt the wisdom of my actions. But by then, Miss West and I had been engaged for two years, and in all that time, she always appeared unfaltering in her affection. It was only when I met you that I realized the full extent of my folly.

“I tried to tell myself that all I felt towards you was warm friendship. But I couldn’t continue to fool myself for long. When I learned that you and your sister were moving to Misthaven, that’s when the full import of my feelings crashed upon me. I felt trapped—and in utter despair.”

“Why did you come to Misthaven? You ought to have stayed away, David. Both for your sake and mine,” Mary Margaret scolded, the severity of her manner counteracted by the way she was softly stroking David’s hand.

David gave a remorseful smile. “By then, I’d succeeded in convincing myself that what I felt for you was one-sided. I was honor-bound to Miss West. I thought that would give me enough strength to be in your company and not be pained by comparisons between the two of you,” David gave a self-deprecating laugh. “How wrong I was!”

Mary Margaret smiled.

“When the engagement came out into the open, I had to stand by it, even though I’d come to utterly regret it by then. I had made Miss West wait for four years.” David gestured helplessly. “After Lady Spencer cut me off from my inheritance, I offered to release Miss West from our engagement if she so wished. But she adamantly refused, assuring me again and again of her affection and loyalty, reiterating her determination to stand by me even when my prospects were at their lowest! Until I got her letter informing me that she had married Walsh, I believed her to be utterly devoted to me.”

“She told me that her father had always insisted that, no matter what she felt on the inside, she should put on a good face to the world,” said Mary Margaret. “I think she was practiced in masking her true feelings when it suited her.”

“She certainly was very successful in her subterfuge,” said David, wryly. “My own feelings seemed in utter and shameful contrast to her steadiness and apparent selflessness! But all it needed was a more financially superior offer to present itself to effect a transfer of her affections.”

Mary Margaret did not wish to pain David by mentioning to him Kelly West’s insincere behavior towards herself. She said instead, “What I cannot understand is how your brother could have fallen in love with her! He is so…er… _fashionable_ …”

“You might as well call him a dandy, because that’s what he is,” David interjected with a grin.

Mary Margaret huffed out a laugh. She continued. “I cannot imagine he would spare a second glance for someone who was not turned out in the most modish style.”

“Now _that_ is something I can understand,” said David, giving a small laugh. “My brother has always had a penchant for theatrical behavior. I suppose he felt a grand sense of accomplishment in ‘stealing’ my fiancée and in fooling his mother by his coup. I am fond of Walsh, but we are as unlike as oil and water.”

“I can’t say I’m unhappy about the turn of events,” Mary Margaret replied, laughing. “I shall shake his hand very cordially and wish him joy the next time I see him.”

David grinned.

They were silent for some minutes. Then, Mary Margaret said, “Do you know how Lady Spencer has taken the news?”

“According to Robin, who came to see me, she feels utterly betrayed by Walsh and has disowned him.” David’s eyes flashed with humor. “And by the same token, I believe she will forgive Walsh much more quickly.”

“Very likely.” Mary Margaret smiled.

David’s expression sobered. “Walsh is my father’s son, so I do not begrudge him the family estate, except on one point. I wish I could provide a better home for you, Mary Margaret. A clergyman’s income is all I can offer you now.”

“Oh, David,” said Mary Margaret, taking his hand in hers. “I would happily build a cabin in the woods and spend the rest of my days hunting rabbits for supper, if that was all the life you could offer me,” she said, pressing an affectionate kiss to his knuckles, “as long as I have you by my side.”

His eyes brimming with warmth and gratitude, David leaned forward and pressed his lips to Mary Margaret’s, pouring all the adoration he felt into the kiss.

***

Mrs. Lucas was amazed when Emma and Mary Margaret called on her to tell her all the news. Her invectives against Mrs. Walsh Spencer were quite energetic!

“That hussy! Making use of me like that! Fooling me and all of you into thinking she’d married Mr. Spencer—when it was the brother all the time! Lawks a-mercy! I thought she was a nice girl, though prone to be a bit obsequious. But I made allowances for her background and situation—but I don’t hold with such—and poor Mr. Spencer, to have lost his inheritance standing up for this piece of baggage—it served that stepmother of his right well—But, all’s well that ends well, as they say. And I’m very happy for you, my dear Miss Blanchard. I must write to Ruby at once. Won’t she be surprised!”

David took up temporary residence at Arendell Cottage, where he was to remain until some much-needed renovations were completed at the parsonage house. Oh, what a contrast this was to his previous visit! That visit had been marked by restraint and mixed messages. But now, there was no dearth of warmth, openness, assurance, and overall gratitude for the happy turn of events. There was a remarkable change in David’s manner and spirits. The happiness in his heart was expressed not just in words, but in the smile in his eyes, and the ease of his manner. While a large part of this might be attributed to his honorable release from the engagement to Kelly and his subsequent engagement to herself, Mary Margaret got the impression that his newfound independence from his stepmother had something to do with it as well.

Ingrid issued an invitation to Captain Jones to dine at Arendell cottage so as to give David and his patron an opportunity to get better acquainted. If Ingrid had another motive in the matter, she did not openly disclose it, but Mary Margaret caught the sparkle in her sister’s eyes.

Mary Margaret had observed Emma’s growing inclination for the naval captain with surprise at first. She had not expected Emma to move past her heartbreak over Neal Cassidy so quickly, even with the exposure of his mercenary and fickle nature. However, though she had been surprised, Mary Margaret was not displeased. Ever since his kind offer of the Misthaven living to David, she regarded the captain with esteem, even if his offer had initially appeared to facilitate the union between David and Kelly West. The qualities of kindness and generosity were always recommendations to her favor, and his evident partiality for her sister added a degree of warmth to her regard. She could not help suspecting that Captain Jones had invited his mentor, Admiral Nemo, to Misthaven specifically to meet Emma.

Over the course of the admiral’s visit, Mary Margaret had observed a change in Emma’s manner towards Captain Jones. While earlier, she had seemed guarded in her interactions with him, there was now an open warmth and a spark of happiness whenever she was around him. Emma’s growing attachment to the captain was less exuberant when contrasted with her behavior towards Neal Cassidy, but Mary Margaret had the impression that Emma’s feelings ran deeper for all that.

Captain Jones arrived at a quarter to five and was soon appraised of the Shakespearean turn of events with respect to David’s matrimonial prospects. As his good offices towards David had resulted in a serendipitous advantage to Miss Blanchard, the captain did not offer anything more than his congratulations on hearing the news.

He and Emma sat next to each other during dinner. Mary Margaret could not help noting how frequently their eyes strayed towards each other. And she was not the only one to notice it. Ingrid seemed to be making an effort to not smile whenever she caught the oblivious couple exchanging looks and David soon directed a questioning eyebrow in Mary Margaret’s direction with a subtle nod of the head towards the pair.

The conversation at the table ran along the lines of parish matters and the renovations being carried out at the parsonage.

“The parsonage will be ready for occupation in another week as far as the vital repair-work is concerned, Mr. Spencer,” Captain Jones assured David. “The builder is at your disposal for any additional changes you may wish to make.”

David thanked him, adding, “That would work very well for me. I will write to London and have my personal effects sent over at once.”

Mary Margaret was not too disappointed that David would be moving to the parsonage soon. She was indeed quite eager for David to get settled at the parsonage, and assist him in picking out color schemes for window curtains and china patterns as far as their limited budget would allow.

After dinner, the two sisters and Ingrid moved to the drawing room, but the men did not linger behind for long. David, who seemed to have assigned to himself the role of protective big brother to Emma, walked up to the sofa where she was sitting by herself and sat down beside her, leaving Captain Jones with no option but to sit elsewhere. Emma, however, ingeniously foiled David’s plot by rising, walking to the desk by the window, picking up a couple of books, and making her way back with apparent casualness to sit next to the captain. Mary Margaret and Ingrid exchanged an amused look.

“Captain Jones, we have a habit of asking our guests to read aloud after dinner. Would you be so good as to read something for us?” She cast a sly glance at David. “David here likes Wordsworth. But perhaps you prefer a different poet?”

The captain took the proffered books, an amused glint in his eyes. “I would be happy to,” he said, and started leafing through the pages. He picked out the latest collection of poems by Mr. Coleridge and started to read the poem “Kubla Khan”. Mary Margaret could not help suspecting a hint of mischief in the captain’s selection of the piece, which the poet claimed had come to him in an opium-induced dream. He was certainly playing up to Emma’s antics. Mary Margaret gave David a pointed look, who sheepishly rolled his eyes.

After Captain Jones had left and everyone had retired to their bedrooms, Emma said to Mary Margaret, “Now that you are getting married, you should take the breakfast china.”

Mary Margaret protested. “It belongs to both of us, Emma. We should divide it.”

“Really?” Emma gave her sister an exasperated look.

“It was our mother’s. I couldn’t possibly take the whole set.”

Emma’s gaze softened. “I have Mama’s pianoforte. It is only right that you take the breakfast set. Besides, the blue willow pattern would be just perfect for a parsonage.”

A teasing glint entered Mary Margaret’s eyes. “I quite admired the Wedgwood set at the Abbey when we had breakfast there the other day.”

A hint of color spread over Emma’s cheeks. “Oh?”

“Emma….” Mary Margaret cocked her head to one side. “Are you going to pretend there’s nothing between you and the captain?”

“There _is_ nothing between the captain and me.”

“Really?” Mary Margaret arched her brows.

“Well…perhaps…well…I do like him,” Emma admitted with a blush.

Mary Margaret laughed out loud. Emma looked chagrined. Mary Margaret composed her face immediately. “I’m sorry, Emma. I was not laughing at you. I was just reminded of a certain conversation we had about the same time last year. You quarreled with the ‘banal’ words I used to describe my feelings for David. The boot is on the other foot now.”

Emma threw a pillow at her sister.

Mary Margaret laughed again as she caught it. Emma huffed and stretched out on her bed, turning away to face the wall, and pulling the covers over her head as she did so. Still smiling, Mary Margaret blew out the candles and lay down as well.

In the dark, Mary Margaret whispered, “I’m sure he likes you too, Emma. Very much so.”

The sheets rustled as Emma turned towards her sister. “You think so?” she whispered back.

“Absolutely.”

Mary Margaret could hear the smile in her voice when Emma wished her a good night.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you think. :-)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt. Please check out @captainswanandclintasha’s gorgeous picset for chapters 13 and 14 on tumblr. Lots of drama in this chapter, but maybe not exactly the kind you're expecting...

Emma was alone at the cottage one morning, shuffling through her collection of sheet music to see what she was in the mood to play. Mary Margaret and Ingrid had gone to the neighboring town of Glowerhaven with Mrs. Lucas for wedding-purchases and were not expected back until the evening. The clip-clop of approaching hoofbeats and wheels announced the arrival of a carriage. Emma wondered who had come to call and scrambled to sit upright. A bustle of quick footsteps and voices filtered through the closed door. The next moment, the door was thrown open and Ashley entered the room, a gentleman partly hidden by her figure and the half-closed door.

In a flustered voice, Ashley announced the visitor as he stepped into the light. “Mr. Cassidy to see you, ma’am.”

Neal Cassidy stepped into the room.

For an instant, Emma could hardly breathe.

“Miss Emma,” said Neal, and bowed.

Expelling a sharp breath, Emma stood up, eyes blazing. “You have come at a most inopportune time, Mr. Cassidy. My cousin is not at home to receive callers.”

“I did not come to see Miss White.” Neal waved his hand casually. “I came to speak to you.”

“Then, it is unfortunate, sir. Because I have nothing to say to you.” Turning to Ashley, who was still standing in the room, looking scared but determined not to leave the young mistress alone with the man who had broken her heart, Emma said, “Ashley, please show Mr. Cassidy to the door.”

“Please, Emma…” said Neal.

Ashley gasped.

“Pray do not address me with such informality, sir,” Emma said, stiffly.

Neal passed a hand over his forehead. “I beg your pardon, Miss Emma. My lapse in manners is solely occasioned by my weariness. I left London yesterday morning, and I’ve been traveling almost without stop since then.”

Emma was amazed. It was a journey of nearly three hundred miles, and would normally take at least two full days to complete.

“I entreat you, Miss Emma. Please spare me a half-hour—nay—fifteen minutes of your time.”

Emma hesitated, noting the bags under his eyes and the slightly wrinkled state of his clothes that supported his claim. Despite everything, she felt some curiosity as to what he would say. Turning to Ashley, Emma dismissed her with a reassuring nod.

“Alright, but, pray be quick,” said Emma, and sat back down at the pianoforte. She preferred having a physical barrier between herself and Neal. As she took in his appearance, she saw that his ensemble had undergone a marked improvement. His suit was more elegantly cut than formerly and he carried a gold-tipped cane.

Neal bowed once more, and took a seat, resting the cane against the arm of the sofa. But instead of speaking, he glanced at the sheets of music spread out on top of the pianoforte, and gave a crooked smile. “You’re always at the instrument, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“The pianoforte.” Neal nodded at it.

Emma pressed her lips. “I’m still waiting to hear why you have come.”

“I know you must think me a selfish monster,” Neal began, his expression turning serious. “I came to see if I could explain myself—beg your forgiveness—urge something to make you think less ill of me.”

Emma was skeptical. “You came all the way from London for this?”

“You cannot understand how tormented I’ve been in last eight months, knowing how poorly you must think of me. My peace of mind has been entirely shot.” Neal pressed down on his temples with his fingers.

Emma bristled. “Mr. Cassidy, I doubt anything you have felt compares to the months of silence, avoidance, and unanswered questions I endured.”

“I’m ready to answer them now. Even if it’s bound to sink me further in your opinion, I promise to truthfully answer any question you put to me.”

Emma glared at him, her cheeks flushing. She had half a mind to throw him out and tell him that it was too late. However, she knew that she would regret not taking the opportunity to get some answers from him. Whether he would reply truthfully or not was another question, but she had to try. She asked the one question uppermost in her mind when it came to Neal. “Did you form a connection with Wendy Jones knowing she was the niece of Captain Jones? Was this some repugnant scheme to take revenge on him for inheriting Misthaven Abbey?”

“So, you do know about her,” Neal said softly, falling back in his seat with a thump.

“Oh, yes. I do.” Emma gave a contemptuous smile.

“You must remember that you have only one side of the story, and you have received it from a person who is deeply prejudiced against me,” said Neal, bitterly. “You ought to know better than to blindly believe Jones, given the history of his infamous conduct towards my father!”

“You are in no position to make such declarations, Mr. Cassidy, as _your_ conduct has not been of the kind to inspire confidence in your claims.” Emma threw back.

Neal’s arched his brows. “Oh, so you trust him now?” He jerked his head at the sheet music on top of the pianoforte and smirked. “Has he given you more of those? Is that why you’re practicing so hard? So you can play it for him?”

“I do not see that it is any concern of yours,” Emma returned.

Neal studied her face for a few moments in silence, brows furrowed, shoulders hunched. Emma remained silent. If he thought his silent judgment was going to get to her, he was going to be sorely disappointed. After a few moments, Neal relaxed his stance and said, “I did not know that Wendy was the niece of Captain Jones.”

“I find that hard to believe,” said Emma.

“It is the truth,” Neal reiterated. “If I had known who she was, I would not have gone near her.”

“You’re telling me that the young woman you seduced and abandoned just _happened_ to be the niece of the very man you detest?” asked Emma, incredulous at his assertion.

“If you cannot take my word for it, perhaps it is because you have let your emotions cloud your judgment,” said Neal, eyes glinting.

“You question my judgment?” Emma narrowed her eyes. “Tell me, Mr. Cassidy, what of yours? What kind of a woman would you have judged as the right sort to pursue? Someone who was entirely unprotected and friendless? Someone who offered an easier target to your twisted passions?”

Neal’s eyes hardened. “The responsibility for what happened does not solely fall on me. From the very start of our acquaintance, Miss Jones was relentless in her pursuit of me. I tried to avoid her as much as possible, but she would not leave me alone. In a moment of weakness, I gave in to her importunities. She was no saint, believe me.”

“She was sixteen. Little more than a _child_ ,” cried Emma. “You abandoned that girl without a word! She did not know where you had gone or how to get a hold of you in her distress!”

“I did not know then that she was with child. Given my own history, do you think I would intentionally abandon a child of mine?” Neal made an emphatic gesture to drive home his point. “If she had used a little bit of common sense, Miss Jones would’ve stayed put in Bath and written to me. Instead, she took off like a fool to look for me on her own.”

“And _this_ is what you offer in mitigation of your cruel treatment? By speaking ill of a frightened and desperate young girl’s sense and judgment?” Emma shook her head in disbelief. “This does you no credit.”

Neal stood up abruptly. He walked up to the mantelpiece and toyed with some ornaments. He sighed. “I do not wish to speak ill of her. I know I treated her very shamefully.”

“That is putting it mildly. And after your callous abandonment of her, you came straight to Misthaven and started trifling with me for your amusement!”

Neal walked back to where Emma was sitting and leant forward against the pianoforte. He looked at her with an earnest expression. “That was never the case, I assure you. The day before I left Misthaven, I’d made up my mind to pay my addresses to you, and to engage my faith as I had engaged my heart.”

Emma’s eyes flashed. This confession of Neal’s made it appear as though he had not been seriously considering matrimony until then. She was disappointed, but not surprised. So much for his sincerity.

Neal continued. “That evening, on my way back to French Lodge from Arendell, Booth waylaid me. A mutual acquaintance had written to him, appraising him of Wendy’s flight from Bath and of Jones’s arrival there.”

Emma frowned. “Mr. Booth? The curate?”

“He and I were in the same set in Bath last summer,” said Neal.

Emma had known that he and Neal were acquaintances, but that August Booth had had any part in this whole mess was news to her. Did Captain Jones know of this, and was this why Booth had been replaced by Mr. Scarlett?

“Well, and so you ran.” Emma stated flatly.

“What other choice did I have?” he responded. “A hot-headed naval man like Jones who had been in the war would not listen to reason. Besides, I knew that it was the end of my prospects with you.” Neal gave a wistful smile—one which Emma would have found engaging in the past. He started pacing the room. “And so I left Misthaven and laid low in London for some time.”

“Is that when Mrs. Gould wrote to you?”

Neal looked startled for a moment. Then, he nodded. “Jones had appraised her of everything, casting my conduct in the worst possible light. She confirmed to me what I had feared ever since I’d heard of Miss Jones’s flight—that she was with child. She tried to convince me to marry the girl. She offered to speak to Jones on my behalf if I was willing to make things right.”

This information agreed with Mrs. Gould’s letter. At least in this, Neal was speaking the truth. “Go on…” she said, when he paused. “Did you at least consider it?”

“Not for long.” Neal made an uncomfortable grimace. “We would only have made each other miserable.”

“That was around the time you were introduced to Miss Lambe’s acquaintance, I suppose. You saw that it was within your power to make a more advantageous marriage.” Emma stated dryly.

“I suppose I deserve every bit of that reproach.” Neal gestured resignedly. He sat down once more. “The truth is, my wife and I married knowing full well that we did not love each other.”

“Indeed!”

“We both had something to offer the other,” said Neal. “I was in desperate need of money to pay off some pressing debts of honor. My wife was the grandchild of a mulatto woman, looking for an escape from her stifling home environment.”

“You can have little conception of how your wife truly feels if you can speak so disrespectfully of her.” Emma was disgusted. How had she been so blind to his faults?

“I state the plain truth. Her grandfather died last year and left her under the care of her uncle who dislikes her and couldn’t wait to see her gone. Our marriage was a mutually beneficial arrangement.” He grimaced. “We agreed that we would live separate lives after the wedding.”

“Did you not consider that Captain Jones would have paid all your debts and settled a generous sum of money on his niece if you had married her?”

“Perhaps. But then, he would have the whip hand over me for the rest of my life.” Neal grit his teeth. “That I could not abide.”

Emma scoffed, but said nothing.

After several moments of silence, Neal continued, “Now that I have the means, I want to make what amends I can for the child and its mother. But Jones refuses to allow me to have anything to do with them.”

Emma could not blame Captain Jones for his refusal. It was not just a question of distrusting Neal. Wendy had to be protected from any further association with him.

After a beat, Neal added in a soft voice. “And I wish to make amends to you as well.”

“How do you mean?”

“Miss Emma,” continued Neal, leaning forward with an earnest look on his face, “you cannot conceive what it cost me to offer for Miss Lambe. Those weeks I spent in your company were some of the happiest in my life. I never cared for any woman as I have cared for you. As I still do.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. She was too stunned to speak. _Was he suggesting_ _…_

“And I know that you care for me as well.” Neal tilted his head and looked at her through his eyelashes. “What I’m trying to say is…there is still a chance for us to be together.”

Emma rose, seething. “Is this what you told Wendy Jones when you seduced her? You’re sorely mistaken in my character if you think I would lower myself to be your mistress.”

Neal looked pained. “I know you don’t set store by propriety as much as all that, Miss Emma. I understand you are angry with me—justly so. But, once you’ve had time to…”

Emma put up a hand to cut him off, and said, “In my foolish infatuation with you, I was led astray into some improper conduct, and I thank providence it wasn’t worse. But I’m not interested in having anything more to do with you.”

Neal looked at her consideringly for some moments. He huffed out a laugh. “I see Jones has pressed his advantage to a greater degree than I had feared.”

Emma had been on the point of ringing the bell for Ashley, but paused. “What do you mean?”

Neal expelled a long breath. “I went to pay my respects to Mrs. Gould this morning before I called here. In the course of our conversation, she let fall a hint that Jones was pursuing you. I was hoping to find her in the wrong.”

“Again, what concern is it of yours?”

Neal narrowed his eyes. “Take care, Miss Emma. Jones may look the picture of nobility next to me, but when it comes to his self-interest, he’s no better than anyone else.”

“Thank you for your concern. But I’m quite capable of making my own judgments.” Emma rang the bell for Ashley. “And now, I must ask you to leave.”

Neal looked taken aback at her abrupt dismissal. Ashley opened the door and stood at the threshold. The message was clear. Neal rose and bowed. “I thank you for your time, Miss Emma. Please accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.” The angry glint in his eyes belied his polite words. He picked up his cane and with one last bitter glance, left the room.

After he had left, Emma sat in silent contemplation of their conversation, staggered at Neal’s audacity in suggesting a clandestine arrangement between the two of them. Loathe as she was to acknowledge it, a meeting with him was something Emma had both wished for and dreaded in equal measure ever since she’d learned of his engagement to Miss Lambe on that fateful London evening. Even after being appraised of his treatment of poor Wendy Jones, it had not been easy for her to reconcile his good-humored countenance and open temper with dishonorable behavior. She had been so taken in by his charm and the romantic circumstances of their meeting that she supposed she had failed to notice the distinct sense of entitlement he had always displayed. She had loved the charming man he then appeared to be, but underneath the surface was a person whose selfishness had led him into serious moral transgressions. It was obvious to Emma now that Neal looked upon himself as the perpetual victim of circumstances or of other people’s actions. How often had he complained about his parentage and consequent inability to inherit Misthaven Abbey! He was still sore over the fact that his father had not intended him to carry the Gould name. That Neal had done the same to another child had not even occurred to him.

Emma could not help deeply pitying Mrs. Cassidy. If she had wanted to escape a wretched home, what kind of a sanctuary had she found with her husband? Emma could not quite credit Neal’s assertion that his wife had agreed to a marriage of convenience. She suspected that this was something Neal wanted to believe to make himself feel better for marrying for the sake of financial security. Or, perhaps, he had only said that as an excuse to convince her into agreeing to be his mistress. Neal had spoken fine words about having intended to propose to her, but he had never once confessed to loving her. He had avoided committing himself with his words back then, and now, had only done so to make a demeaning offer.

What a contrast to this was Captain Jones’s treatment of herself. In all her interactions with him, he had behaved as a true gentleman. Despite his self-confessed preference for her, he had never pushed himself on her, but had tried to look out for her welfare in spite of her blind defense of Neal and her mistaken accusations against him. Captain Jones had earned every present comfort by his hard work and determination, and did not use his own sufferings as an excuse to treat others shamefully. The Abbey had descended to him via entail, perhaps, but it was his money and exertions that had saved the estate from ruin and opened up fresh prospects for so many farmers and laborers. Neal’s continued bitterness towards Captain Jones in spite of his own shameful treatment of Wendy spoke volumes about how blinded he was on the subject of the captain’s true worth and goodness.

Emma’s silent reflections were disturbed by Ashley, looking agitated once more as she entered the room.

“What is it, Ashley?” Emma asked. Had Neal taken it upon his head to come back with more importunities?

“It’s the woodcutter’s little girl, miss. Ava. She’s in the kitchen—and she’s in a proper state!”

Emma rose and followed Ashley out of the room, wondering if Ava’s father or brother had been taken ill. She sat at the wooden table in the kitchen, red-faced, hair askew, and tear tracks covering her cheeks. Mrs. Patmore and Astrid hovered nearby, looking concerned.

“What’s the matter, Ava?” asked Emma, sitting beside her and laying a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Are you ill? Where are your father and your brother?”

At that, Ava broke down weeping. It took Emma several minutes to calm the girl down enough to get her story. It was a very grim one. Nicholas was caught poaching a week before and was being held at Pendraig Castle, Sir Arthur’s seat. Today was the day of the trial that would decide his punishment.

“Papa’s been there since the morning. I was too scared to stay alone,” she hiccupped.

Emma stroked Ava's back soothingly.

“Mrs. Patmore, please get her some hot milk,” said Emma, and gave her handkerchief to the little girl to dry her tears.

“Oh miss, will they hang him?” said Ava, between stuttered breaths.

“No, they won’t,” Emma tried to reassure her, even though she felt far from confident about that herself.

“There, there. Don’t take on so, my dear,” said Mrs. Patmore, returning shortly with the hot milk. Between the two of them, she and Emma convinced Ava to drink up the warm beverage.

Emma turned to Astrid. “Come with me, Astrid. We’re going to Pendraig Castle.”

“Now? At least wait until Miss White and Miss Blanchard get back, miss,” Mrs. Patmore protested.

“We don’t know when they’ll be back. By then it may be too late.” Emma stood up. “Mrs. Patmore. Ashley. You two watch over Ava. Don’t leave her alone, is that clear?”

Emma got Leroy to hitch the donkey to the cart and set off with Astrid. Captain Jones had gone to Kent on a short visit, otherwise Emma would have consulted him first. She had half a mind to take David along, but on thinking over it, she decided that she would first discover the result of the trial. If Nicholas had been released, which was unlikely but not implausible, she would have no need to bother anyone. Besides, she did not want Sir Arthur set against David right when the latter was just taking up his responsibilities as the rector of Misthaven.

They reached the ornate wrought iron gates of Pendraig Castle half an hour later. The liveried attendant standing guard at a post let them inside after Emma gave her name. The distance from the gate to the castle building was considerable, and it was another fifteen minutes before Emma reached it.

Pendraig Castle was a formidable-looking structure, set on rising ground. It was built like a fort, and presumably used as such at one point. Parts of the building dated back to the fourteenth century, though several sections had been repaired and rebuilt over the years such that it almost had a disjointed, patchwork appearance. Emma could hear the sound of waves crashing against the cliff-face on the other side.

Emma and Astrid got down from the cart and handed the reins to a servant. Michael Zimmer was standing outside, and came up to her on seeing her. Emma stepped forward and opened her mouth to ask if a verdict had been reached, and then closed it without saying anything. Michael’s countenance told its own story. He looked as if the whole world had crashed down on him.

“Oh, miss,” he said. “My boy…”

“What is the sentence?” Emma importuned.

“Oh miss,” Michael repeated. He was having trouble finding words. Taking a deep sobbing breath, he said, “He’s to be sent away to the colonies.”

“Oh, Michael, I am so sorry,” said Emma pressing Michael Zimmer’s hands.

“It’s I who ought to be sorry, miss,” said Zimmer, trembling. “It’s all my fault. I told Sir Arthur that I’d take the punishment for my son, but he’s refusing to consider it.”

“Let me go talk to Sir Arthur,” said Emma, releasing Zimmer’s hands.

Michael Zimmer nodded hopelessly. “Thank you, miss.” He slouched against the wall of the building, his hands on his head.

Asking Astrid to wait with Michael, Emma walked up to the door and gave her name to a waiting footman. He led her through several lofty rooms and finally stopped in front of a door. Opening it, he announced, “Miss Emma Blanchard to see you, Sir Arthur.” He then bowed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Sir Arthur was sitting at a desk, books and parchments spread out before him. He looked up from his work and stared at Emma, but did not rise.

“Please sit, Miss Emma,” said the man, indicating a chair across from him. “What can I do for you?”

Emma launched into the details of her errand. Once she had finished, Sir Arthur took off his spectacles and started polishing them with a white linen cloth.

“Let me be clear,” he said, looking up. “You want me to let the boy go without prosecuting him for his crime.”

“I’m requesting you to show leniency towards him and commute his sentence. He is very young. This is his first time, and…”

“This was his first time being _caught_.” Sir Arthur interrupted. “There have been fifteen incidents of poaching across the county in the last two months. It is absolutely essential that this is dealt with swiftly and strictly.”

“And you believe Nicholas is responsible for all of them?”

“Him and people like him,” Sir Arthur returned with a bite. “Where do you think he learned to disrespect another man’s property? If he walks free, this boy will someday teach his own sons to lie and steal, just like his father before him.”

“You attribute such wicked motives to a boy of ten?”

“Being young does not absolve him of his crime.” Sir Arthur narrowed his eyes. “If you will excuse me for saying this, Miss Emma, you are much too young and inexperienced to understand human nature as I do. You must have heard the saying, ‘Men are not hanged for stealing horses, but that horses may not be stolen’. This will serve as a warning to all the wastrels of Misthaven that their vagrancy will not be tolerated.”

“But Nicholas is a child, not a man.” Emma dug her nails into her palms to keep herself from exploding at Sir Arthur and bringing their interview to a premature end. “He may not even survive the long journey with no one to look out for him.”

“You would accuse me of cruelty for administering justice?” Sir Arthur leant forward, his jaw clenching. “What do you know about governance, Miss Emma? I never heard that women receive instruction on the finer points of the law from their governesses.”

Emma stared back at Sir Arthur defiantly. “Perhaps I do not know much about the law or governance. But I do know that mercy triumphs over justice.”

“Mercy.” Sir Arthur gave a mocking laugh and rose. He walked to the window and stood looking outside for a few moments. The sound of the waves seemed louder in the silence. Sir Arthur turned to Emma. “Do you think your visits to the poor prove that you are more generous than landowners like me who can and do much more than you?”

“I do not question your generosity when it comes to your land and your tenants, Sir Arthur,” Emma replied, with a small wave of her hand. “But you know as well as anyone else how bad the winter has been and how difficult it has been for farmers and laborers to find work.”

“And that’s why we have rules and conventions, Miss Emma. People who live on the land honestly warrant parish assistance in the event of unforeseen circumstances.” Sir Arthur walked back to his desk and sat down. “Laws must be properly enforced if we’re to be a functioning society and not descend into the kind of anarchy that exemplifies the American and French revolutions. England will always stand for order and the proper way of doing things.”

“And you believe it falls on you to ensure it?”

“All the government cares about is colonization and expansion. As for our royalty, drunk and bloated in the surfeit of their pleasures, they represent the worst moral failings in the land.” Sir Arthur’s eyes glinted. “It is up to us—the country squires and gentry landowners—to take the lead in restoring the moral balance that’s been knocked askew by our so-called superiors in rank.”

Emma stared at Sir Arthur, his eyes shining with the light of the fanatic absolutely convinced of the rightness of his creed. For the first time, Emma feared that she was going to fail in her errand. Sitting in front of her was not a man who was wantonly cruel or took perverse pleasure in the pain of others. Sir Arthur truly believed that it was up to him to raise the moral standards of the country. She was not going to change his mind by trying to tap into his compassionate side.

“If that is what you believe, Sir Arthur, I can see why you wish to see justice.” Emma spoke calmly, even if she was feeling anything but calm on the inside. “If the person on whose land Nicholas was caught agrees to withdraw his charges, would you consider letting Nicholas go free?”

Sir Arthur stared at Emma for a moment, and then he huffed a laugh. “You do not know where he was caught, do you?”

Emma shook her head slowly.

“On the grounds of Misthaven Abbey.”

Emma gave a start.

Sir Arthur gave a sarcastic smile. “Captain Jones may be your _friend_ , Miss Emma, but I’m not without like-minded allies in this county, as you might imagine.”

Emma did not miss the significance of Sir Arthur’s emphasis on the word “friend”, and the thought that Captain Jones had anything to do with this filled her with dread. But she tried to get her riotous thoughts under control and focus on the task at hand. She took in a few deep breaths and said, “In that case, I will talk to Captain Jones once he returns to Misthaven. If he is willing to let this slide...”

“It is too late for that, Miss Emma. The case has been adjudicated.”

“A sentence can be commuted, Sir Arthur. I know that much, despite my youth and lack of proper education in the law,” said Emma. “Perhaps you may consider exacting a monetary penalty in lieu of the sentence along with a guarantee of good behavior from the boy’s father.”

“And how do you propose the Zimmers will afford to pay it?” Sir Arthur gave a sarcastic smile. “Will you beg money from your cousin, or will you ask Captain Jones to make double payment for his own loss?”

Emma’s eyes blazed with anger. “Why does it matter to you how I get the money?”

“Because it does.” Sir Arthur struck his fists on the table and rose. “It is oh, so easy for people like you to direct another man’s charity, while you do nothing on your own, is it not?”

Emma rose as well, her breath coming fast. “I do what I can.”

Sir Arthur studied her face for a few long moments in silence. Then, his face relaxed into a smile. “I’ll make a bargain with you, Miss Emma. If you can pay the penalty for the boy’s theft out of your own pocket, I will let him go. I will trust your honor as a gentleman’s daughter that you will not beg it of any of your friends in Misthaven. Otherwise, Nicholas Zimmer will be sent to London tomorrow, where he will await transportation to the colonies.”

“How much is it to be?” asked Emma, too angry to be embarrassed at all his insinuations.

“Fifty pounds.”

Emma was outraged. “ _Fifty pounds_ for a dead deer?”

“Poaching deer is a hanging offense, if you weren’t aware of it. I’ve been more than merciful to the boy by any account.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at Sir Arthur and thought furiously. Even if she scrounged up all the money in Arendell Cottage, it wouldn’t amount to more than twenty pounds at the most. There was only one alternative she could think of.

“Sir Arthur, you must know very well that I do not have fifty pounds lying around, which is clearly why you named that sum.” Sir Arthur arched his brows. Emma ignored him and continued. “But I do have something of value that I could give you.”

“Indeed. And what is that?”

“My pianoforte.”

“Your pianoforte,” Sir Arthur repeated, in a flat tone. “Pray what is its value?”

“It belonged to my mother and I do not know what its current valuation would be. But it is a fine instrument all the same, and likely to fetch a good price if it is sold, though I do not know that it will amount to fifty pounds.”

“You would give up something so precious for the sake of a delinquent?”

Emma’s eyes pricked, but she bit her lip to hold back her tears. “The pianoforte is indeed precious to me. But not so precious as to stay my hand if its loss will restore the boy to his family.”

Sir Arthur gave Emma a long and searching look. “You are too naive and idealistic for your own good, Miss Emma. Ask yourself this question. What will you do when Nicholas gets caught for poaching again?”

“That, Sir Arthur, is my lookout.” Emma shot back. “Now, are you going to fulfill your word as a gentleman and release the boy or are you not?”

Ten minutes later, Emma stepped outside the Castle, Nicholas trailing by her side, his hand in hers. Michael Zimmer took one look at the pair of them, and dropped to his knees. Emma let go of Nicholas and he immediately ran to his father, who was too overwhelmed to speak. All he could do was rain kisses on the boy’s cheeks and embrace him again and again.

When Emma and Astrid returned to Arendell Cottage, Michael Zimmer and Nicholas in tow, there were a host of people standing outside—Mary Margaret, Ingrid, Ava, and the other servants. Ava took one look at the approaching cart, and started squealing and jumping up and down with joy. Everyone moved to the kitchen to celebrate the release of Nicholas Zimmer.

After the Zimmers had left, Ingrid finally asked the question uppermost in her and Mary Margaret’s mind. “How in the world did you convince Sir Arthur to let the boy go?”

Emma bit her lip. She did not expect Ingrid or Mary Margaret to react well when they understood the nature of her bargain with Sir Arthur. They did not.

“But Emma, you love the pianoforte!” cried Mary Margaret. “It was Mama’s!”

Emma’s lips trembled. “I know. But can’t you see that there was nothing else I could have done to save Nicholas?”

“I’ll go and talk to Sir Arthur early tomorrow morning,” Ingrid declared. “I’ll not let that high-handed tyrant have his way in the matter.”

“No, you cannot go,” said Emma. “If I go back on my word, there is every danger of him changing his mind about Nicholas.”

“He’ll be too ashamed to do any such thing after the talking to I shall give him,” said Ingrid. “It seems very likely to me that he did not expect you to pay the penalty he asked for.”

“Yes, and I called him out on it.” Emma agreed. “Don’t you see that this is why I need to keep my end of the bargain?”

The three ladies went back and forth on the question for the rest of the evening, though neither Ingrid nor Mary Margaret were able to convince Emma to change her mind. After dinner, Emma sat down at her pianoforte. Her spirits felt oppressed as she stumbled over the notes, tears blurring her eyes. Sir Arthur’s men would be at the cottage early on the morrow to collect her pianoforte. But that was not the only matter contributing to her depressed spirits. The idea that Captain Jones had been involved in the arrest of Nicholas Zimmer was repugnant to her. _“Jones may look the picture of nobility next to me, but when it comes to his self-interest, he’s no better than anyone else”_ had been Neal Cassidy’s warning. His opinion was nothing but the result of bitterness and prejudice was it not? Had not many in Misthaven credited the captain as being a liberal master and landlord? But then, when it came to poachers, most landed gentlemen tended to take punitive measures to protect their property. Emma could not bear it if Captain Jones was like the rest of them. Her own parents had been very generous to the poor. Emma could not respect a man who looked to his interests so carefully that he lost his sense of compassion as Neal had done. Had the captain not shown kindness and understanding towards herself? Would such a man be cruel to a child, no matter what the situation? Or was she falling into the same kind of trap as she had with Neal Cassidy? Was her growing partiality for the captain blinding her to his faults?

Emma woke the next morning to the same dire reflections that had closed her eyes the night before. After her morning ablutions were complete, she went down to the drawing room and sat at her pianoforte for one last time. She attempted a few bars, but a fit of weeping overtook her, and she rested her head on the instrument. A hand pressed down on her shoulder. Emma lifted a tearful face to see Mary Margaret standing beside her.

“Emma. I will only ask you this once more. Are you sure?” She slid into the bench to sit by Emma. “I’m certain that we can find another way around this.”

“If you were in my place right now, would you change your mind?” asked Emma.

After a minute, Mary Margaret shook her head.

“That is why I need to do this,” Emma stated.

“Mama would be very proud of you,” said Mary Margaret. She blinked the tears that had pooled under her eyelids and embraced her sister tightly.

After Sir Arthur’s men had collected the instrument, Emma sat arranging all her sheet music on a shelf.

“We will buy a new pianoforte,” Ingrid said bracingly. “We’ve hardly been extravagant in our expenses, and we can well afford to order a new instrument from Broadwood.”

Emma nodded distractedly. She was holding the sheet music for Amazing Grace that she and Captain Jones had sung together at the Abbey. He had copied it out for her recently at her behest. It reminded Emma of all that the captain had shared about his difficult childhood and his various losses, and how he had slowly turned away from bitterness upon his return from the Indies. This was not a man who could be cold and unfeeling towards other people in reduced circumstances. In that moment, Emma decided that she would not jump to the worst conclusions about his conduct. She would follow Ruby’s wise counsel and not tar the captain with the same brush as the man who had broken her heart.

She stood up abruptly. “I’ll be back,” she announced.

Mary Margaret and Ingrid stared at each other in puzzlement as Emma ran out of the room.

Emma exited the cottage through the back door and went to the kitchen-garden. Leroy was standing there with Astrid, his hand resting on his spade. He was sporting an uncharacteristic grin as he stood listening raptly to Astrid, who as per usual, was talking nineteen to the dozen. Emma almost laughed out loudly in astonishment. The ever-grumpy Leroy had fallen for the effervescent Astrid. So, opposites did attract. On hearing Emma’s approach, the two of them broke apart. Astrid looked sheepish and hurried back into the cottage while Leroy’s face was as red as a lobster.

Emma controlled her laugh, and began, “Leroy, I was wondering if you could get some information for me.”

“Yes, miss?” he said, gruffly.

“Could you find out how Nicholas Zimmer got caught?” asked Emma.

“Oh, I know what happened, miss. I got the whole story from my pal Walter down at the pub last night.” Leroy shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Yes?” Emma prompted. Trust Leroy to have his hand on the pulse of the village gossip.

“Walter’s been putting in work as a constable in the evenings. With all the poaching that’s been happening lately, Sir Arthur and the shiriff are paying a bunch of village lads to watch out for them poachers and arrest them. Walter was asking me to join up.” Leroy laughed. “I told him, I’d rather be dead in a ditch than be caught ratting out those poor wretches to them flush nobs. Pardon the expression, miss.”

“Sir Arthur told me that Nicholas had been arrested on the grounds of Misthaven Abbey. Does Captain Jones know of this added patrolling?”

“I doubt it, miss.” Leroy scratched his beard. “Sir Arthur’s been having the constables roaming and patrolling all over the village, whether the landlords approve of it or not.”

“Is that not trespassing?”

“Sir hoity-toity thinks he is the law around these parts, being the magistrate and all.” Leroy shrugged. “If you ask me, miss, I’d say he’s a bit mental about the whole thing. Thinks he’s the king or summat.”

“Thank you, Leroy,” said Emma and left Leroy to his digging. She felt a great weight roll off her chest.

Emma wondered if the increased frequency of her meetings with Captain Jones during Admiral Nemo’s visit and on David’s arrival had given rise to village gossip about the two of them. Whatever had contributed to Sir Arthur’s suspicious regarding herself and Captain Jones, he had clearly intended to discourage her from pleading on behalf of Nicholas by deceptively hinting that the captain had turned in the boy. But none of that mattered to Emma now. What was most important to her was that her trust in Captain Jones had been justified. A pleasant warmth filled her heart when she realized that she had not been wrong in giving him the benefit of the doubt. Emma went back inside more cheerful than she had expected to feel when she woke up that morning. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you're all disappointed by the absence of Captain Jones. The next chapter will more than make up for it, I hope. ;-)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the chapter. :-) Please check-out the beautiful art-piece by @captainswanandclintasha for this chapter on tumblr.

“A masquerade ball? In _Storybrooke_?” Emma was surprised, to say the least. 

Ingrid bit her lip to suppress a smile. “We’re not exactly in the back of beyond, Emma.”

Emma laughed. “I meant no insult to our illustrious neighborhood. It’s only that a masquerade ball seems a bit ambitious in scope for a public assembly in a market town.”

“I’m not complaining,” said Mary Margaret, smiling widely.

“Of course you aren’t. I’m sure the presence of David has nothing to do with it?” Emma teased.

A mischievous glint came into Mary Margaret’s eyes. “I don’t see why you’re complaining, Emma. Are you afraid Captain Jones won’t turn up in a costume?”

Emma rolled her eyes, though a faint blush colored her cheeks. “He’ll probably be too busy to go to a silly ball.”

“I can send him a note, if you wish, telling him that he’d better show up,” Ingrid chimed in, getting up and pretending to hunt for a paper and quill.

 _“No!”_ said Emma, rising and grabbing hold of her cousin’s arm, even though she knew Ingrid was only teasing her.

“Would you like me to specify that he ought to turn up as a corsair?” Ingrid continued.

“Or nothing…” said Mary Margaret. Emma and Ingrid arched their brows. Mary Margaret reddened and rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean wearing nothing…”

The other two laughed.

“I hope not,” said Emma with a grin. “Or David won’t be pleased.”

Ingrid turned to Emma and added in a more serious tone. “He won’t stay away, if I know anything about it.”

Emma turned away to hide a hopeful smile.

“Let’s go upstairs,” said Ingrid, moving to the door. “I may have just the thing for the ball.”

Curious, Emma and Mary Margaret followed Ingrid to the spare bedroom. Ingrid went to a large wooden chest in the corner and after some tinkering with the keys attached to her waist, unlocked the lid and threw it open. The other two crowded closer. Ingrid started to shift some blankets and drapes that were topmost onto a chair and her two young cousins hastened to help her. Giving a sharp exclamation, Ingrid pulled out a neatly folded dress carefully lined with tissue and spread it out on the bed. It was a beautiful, blue satin ball gown, low-waisted, and stitched in the style of two decades ago.

Emma and Mary Margaret gasped, catching on to Ingrid’s idea.

“We can easily alter them to fit your sizes, and perhaps add ruffles and ornamentation to match the style of a different period.”

There were more excited squeals and exclamations as Ingrid took out gown after gown and described their history. “That one was Helga’s. I think her size was closer to Mary Margaret’s. So there would be very little alteration to do.”

“I wore this to my coming out ball,” Ingrid reminisced fondly, holding up a pale mauve chiffon dress. Attracted by the unusual noise and activity proceeding from the spare room, Ashley and Astrid came to check, and were soon drawn into the fray. The ladies of the cottage spent the next few hours trying on various dresses and enjoying themselves very much. When David came to call three hours later, it was to see dresses draped over every available space in the drawing room and parlor and the women hunched over in their seats, sewing furiously.

The day of the ball dawned with clear skies, much to the collective relief of all the young and young-at-hearts of Misthaven and Storybrooke. The ladies repaired to their rooms at three. Because of the elaborate nature of their gowns, they only put on their undergarments and petticoats, and arranged their hair upstairs. Their gowns awaited them in the parlor.

“How glad I am that these stays went out of fashion!” Emma exclaimed as Mary Margaret laced hers up at the back. “They pull at my shoulders so!”

“Oh, goodness, yes!” Mary Margaret stepped to the dresser and picked up a roller. “I hope they never come back.”

“And the petticoats! How anybody could walk with all these layers on, I can’t imagine!”

“I suppose they were used to it,” Mary Margaret replied, her attention now focused on arranging her curls.

The parlor windows were all bolted and the curtains drawn when the sisters entered the room. The servants were under strict orders to let no one into the cottage. Lit candles were placed on every available mantle and shelf in the room, and both Ashley and Astrid were waiting to help the ladies get ready.

Mary Margaret had elected to go with a Tudor-inspired look in green, with the V-shaped front of the bodice culminating in a stiff busk. She had decided to go without elaborate ruffles around her neck, but her sleeves were long and loose, and appropriate for the time-period. A short gold chain with an emerald pendant hung from her neck.

Emma wore a scarlet satin gown with fitted long sleeves. It had a thin line of intricate piping around the low neck that sparkled in the light, but was otherwise free of ornamentation. The skirt of the dress billowed out a little at the hips with the help of a pannier and fell to the floor in graceful folds. As for jewelry, she wore a thin silver chain with a white-stone pendant on her neck and a matching circlet on her head.

Ingrid, who got dressed last of all, had put on a fitted white lace dress with intricate silver thread-work throughout. The sleeves were long and billowy and the dress had a high ruff-collar. The gown was complemented with a silver necklace with a star-shaped pendant. Silk gloves completed all their ensembles.

“You look like a queen, cousin!” Emma proclaimed.

Ingrid smiled and said, “And you two look like princesses.” She pressed a motherly kiss on their foreheads.

Emma’s throat suddenly felt tight. “Cousin Ingrid…” she said, unable to articulate what she was feeling.

“There, now. Your eyes will look puffy if you cry,” said Ingrid, patting Emma’s arm affectionately.

Ashley and Astrid cleared away all the dressing paraphernalia and the ladies had nothing more to do than put on gloves and wait the arrival of Captain Jones, who was to transport them to Storybrooke for the ball. David had offered to drive his intended to the event in his gig, but not even the happy flutters of love were enough to convince Mary Margaret that her costume would be safe in an open carriage.

Captain Jones arrived punctually at five o’clock to collect his passengers. The ladies stood up when he entered the parlor. His eyes were immediately drawn to Emma. His mouth parted slightly and an appreciative look stole over him. Emma tried hard not to blush at his perusal, and her own eyes discretely roamed over his costume. He was wearing a black shirt paired with a dark velvet waistcoat, buckskin breeches, dark brown stockings, and silver-buckled shoes. A brown suede jacket completed the ensemble. Handsome and dashing were the adjectives that popped into Emma’s mind.

“Not a corsair, but a prince,” Mary Margaret muttered in a low voice that only Emma could hear.

Captain Jones recollected himself and bowed. After a moment, he looked about the room and frowned.

“Your maid first took me to the drawing room. Your pianoforte was not in its usual place…” he trailed off.

Emma was annoyed. She had made it clear to Ashley that Captain Jones was to be brought to the parlor directly. Emma had specifically not wanted him to know that her pianoforte was gone, and had hoped to send for a new one from Broadwood before too long. Evidently, in the bustle of preparations, Ashley had forgotten her instruction.

Emma glanced at Ingrid and Mary Margaret helplessly for a few seconds and then blurted, “We’ve sent it to Broadwood for tuning.”

Captain Jones looked puzzled. “All the way to London?”

“Yes, it was remarkably off-key.”

“We are ready to leave, Captain,” said Ingrid.

Captain Jones preceded them out of the room. Mary Margaret pressed Emma’s arm to hold her back for a moment. She asked in a whisper, “Why don’t you want the captain to know about the pianoforte? Are you worried that he’ll confront Sir Arthur?”

Emma nodded.

“Is that really such a terrible thing, Emma?” Mary Margaret made a helpless gesture.

Emma pressed her lips. “Yes, it is,” she said stubbornly. Disengaging from her sister, Emma walked on.

Captain Jones handed the ladies into the carriage. By accident or Ingrid’s design Emma could not guess, the only available place for Captain Jones to sit when he climbed in last was by herself. Emma did not know whether she was pleased or embarrassed. Once the carriage doors were shut, it was too dark to discern anyone’s features. But Emma felt tiny tingles whenever their arms bumped against each other as the coach-wheels rolled over a bumpy patch on the road.

David was waiting near the entrance of the assembly hall for them. When he caught sight of the carriage, he stepped forward and helped the ladies down. He and Mary Margaret gazed at each other with open admiration. David had co-ordinated with Mary Margaret for his costume, and therefore, he too was dressed in Tudor-style clothing. Emma had always felt the snug doublets, puffed sleeves, and flared jerkins of the time rather ridiculous-looking in paintings. However, David managed to carry it off charmingly, and looked quite like a prince escorting his lady to a royal ball.

Attendants carrying eye-masks and dominoes on trays were standing at the door of the ball room. Everyone from Emma’s group chose the compact eye-masks. Mary Margaret and Ingrid, who were ahead, took David’s proffered arms and stepped inside.

“You look quite lovely in red, Miss Emma,” Captain Jones murmured, as he led her into the ballroom.

Emma could not help preening a little as she smiled. “So do you, Captain. I mean…you look good, not lovely,” she stumbled, and blushed.

“I do not look lovely?” Captain Jones frowned and touched his hand to his chest theatrically. “You quite wound me, milady.”

Emma rolled her eyes, a smile escaping her as she turned to look around. The assembly hall had undergone quite the transformation for the occasion. What seemed like a thousand candles illuminated the room from chandeliers and wall sconces, throwing into relief the variety of costumes on display. There were princes and princesses, Harlequins and wizards, turbaned sheiks and nabobs aplenty. People were laughing and chattering as they greeted their friends and acquaintances. Many of the attendees wore the simple eye-masks, but some were sporting black dominoes that fully covered their dresses. Cries of “How lovely!” and “How charmingly quaint!” and the occasional thinly veiled derisive laughter echoed through the room.

Emma lifted her arms to tie on her own face-mask and then dropped them realizing that the motion would draw attention to her décolletage. She blushed at her own forwardness when she realized that she would not mind drawing the attention of a certain someone standing by her side.

With a tiny smirk, Captain Jones said, “May I?”

Emma nodded, not daring to meet his eyes. She held the mask to her face as he tied it behind her head. Emma felt a pleasant tingle as his fingers gently brushed against her hair.

The music started playing. Captain Jones turned to Emma and with proper ceremony, said, “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Emma?”

Emma smiled and nodded. He took her hand and led her to the steadily growing set, David and Mary Margaret behind them. The ball opened with a minuet. Emma could not stop smiling as they swirled and clapped in tune to the beat. At the end of the dance, Captain Jones led her to the side where Ingrid was seated with the other chaperones. Someone wearing a Harlequin costume bowed to Ingrid and asked to be introduced to Emma. After the formalities were gone through, he asked her hand for the next dance. Emma reluctantly accepted.

The ignominy of not being chosen at a public assembly such as this one was not uncommon for young ladies, where the number of men and women was not guaranteed to be evenly matched, and Emma was not above wishing for a partner for every dance. But she could not help being irrationally annoyed at the young man for asking her, all the same. She could have refused him, of course, but etiquette demanded that she would have to sit it out and not dance with any other partner. And then she chided herself for thinking that Captain Jones would ask her to dance again, knowing that dancing two in a row with the same partner was enough to signal an upcoming betrothal to the gossiping ladies in the room. Besides, she did not want to appear desperate in his eyes. Perhaps he would ask her again after supper…

The Harlequin attempted to hold a conversation with her as they jigged their way through the set, but Emma only gave him half her attention. The other half of her mind was occupied in wondering whether Captain Jones was dancing as well. At last, she caught sight of him, leaning against a column and observing the dance with a glass of punch in his hand. Neither Emma nor Mary Margaret were without a partner for next set of dances. Many in the neighborhood were curious to see the elusive Miss Blanchards, even with masks partly obscuring their faces, and all the young bucks were lining up to dance with both sisters, not even deterred by the knowledge of the elder Miss Blanchard’s engagement to the new rector.

Captain Jones had not sat in the sidelines for all those dances. He had danced once with Mrs. Gould, who had come to the ball wearing a voluminous yellow gown in the French style of the previous century, and the next two with young women Emma did not recognize. Emma realized with dismay that she felt envious of every woman he stood up with. The captain had been the target of despairing matchmaking mamas and aunts in the neighborhood for years. This being one of his rare appearances at a public assembly, many matronly women were vying for his attention for their protégées or even, for themselves.

There was a break for supper, after which Emma was quite glad to leave the congested dining room and get back to the ball room. She and many of the guests had taken off their masks and dominoes for supper, and had not re-fastened them. It was rather warm in the room now, despite the lateness of the hour, and the masks were starting to chafe.

She was joined by Captain Jones, who handed her a cup of coffee. He commented, “You do not want to fall asleep after supper and disappoint all the young lads now, do you, Miss Emma?”

The tiniest whiff of accusation in his tone raised Emma’s hackles. “Nor you the ladies, Captain,” she returned, raising her chin defiantly.

They glared at each other for a few moments. Then Captain Jones’s expression shifted and his lips twitched. Emma’s outrage lasted for another second, and then she too relaxed and a laugh escaped her lips.

“Would you forgive my uncouth remark and agree to dance with me again?” he asked with smiling courtesy.

“I suppose I shall,” said Emma. “Just to save you from the admiring multitudes, you know?”

“But, of course.” Captain Jones gave a gallant bow.

Emma was thrilled that he had asked her to dance once more. While it was something she had hoped for, it still pleased her beyond measure. Her heart beating fast, she placed her hand in the captain’s outstretched one. When the orchestra started up, however, Emma hesitated.

“What’s the matter, Miss Emma?” Captain Jones asked, concern lacing his voice.

“It’s the waltz,” Emma replied, her eyes wide with dismay, and extracted her hand from his.

“You do not know how to dance the waltz?” He frowned.

“Mary Margaret and I learned it, of course. But it was never danced at our village balls.” Emma made a helpless gesture. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.”

Captain Jones gave her a wicked smile. “There’s only one rule to dancing a waltz,” he said, taking her hand once more. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Captain Jones led Emma to the floor and placed his right hand around her waist. He held out his left hand for her to take, while she rested her left upon his shoulder. Holding her hand a little stiffly, he led her round the room. Emma’s first few steps were hesitant, but gaining confidence, she started to enjoy herself. Their faces were quite close from the nature of the dance and Emma could not help returning the smile in Captain Jones’s eyes with an answering sparkle in her own.

For the next part of the dance, Emma raised her left hand and turned a half-circle, still holding to the captain’s hand with her right. Her back was now to his chest, almost touching, and his arm was around her waist. A delicate fragrance of citrus and sage assailed her senses.

“You see, Miss Emma,” he whispered, his voice husky. “You appear to be a natural.” Emma shivered slightly. By the end of the dance, her heart was in a fever of excitement and her head was full of Captain Jones. Several people clapped when the dance ended and Emma was wreathed in smiles as her partner led her to the side of the room.

Belle came up to them and complimented their dancing. She added, “By the by, Miss Emma, I’ve been dying to ask you how you managed to save the poor Zimmer boy.”

Emma colored and threw a quick glance at Captain Jones. Her wish to keep him from knowing about this matter was evidently not going to be fulfilled. “I spoke to  Sir Arthur, and somehow was able to convince him.”

“You must be quite persuasive! I’ve never known Sir Arthur to change his mind.”

Captain Jones shifted forward, a gleam of interest in his eyes. “What is this? I’ve not heard this tale.”

Belle turned to the captain. “The woodcutter’s son, Nicholas, was arrested for poaching.” She gestured to Emma with a smile. “If not for Miss Emma, the poor boy would be on a ship to Australia by now.”

“Indeed! Where was he caught poaching?”

Emma hesitated a moment before replying, “On the grounds of the Abbey.”

“On my land? I wasn’t aware of this.” Captain Jones frowned, his look turning thunderous. Emma, who was carefully watching his reaction, relaxed her tense shoulders. His reaction to the news confirmed to her that she had been justified in disbelieving Sir Arthur’s insinuations.

“You know what he’s like, Killian,” Belle said in a deprecating tone. “Remember the time he stopped up the canal in Sir Kay’s fields without so much as a word to him?”

“If Arthur thinks I’ll cave as easily as Sir Kay did, he’s in for a surprise,” Captain Jones retorted.

Belle was soon called away by Mr. Scarlett for the next dance. Captain Jones was silent for some moments, his brows furrowed. Emma felt a little troubled by his gravity. This news had clearly thrown him into a dark mood.

After a few moments, he shook his head as though to clear his thoughts. “I must apologize for my preoccupation, Miss Emma. Sir Arthur and I have had some dealings in the past, and they’ve always been troublesome and frustrating.” He smiled at her warmly. “I think it’s wonderful that you stepped up for the sake of the boy.”

Emma was quick to disclaim all credit, saying that she had only done what seemed right.

“Yes, it was the right thing to do,” said Captain Jones, in a more serious tone. “But not everyone will do it, all the same.”

There was a lump in her throat that made it difficult for Emma to reply. Captain Jones’s praise touched her, but she was also starting to feel a little dispirited on being reminded of her pianoforte. She had made that sacrifice willingly, and she would do it again, if called on, but her heart still felt its loss.

“I wish I’d been there to provide support. Not that you needed any help to have achieved the near-impossible.” His admiring look made Emma’s heart feel less heavy. He added in amused tone, “It was very likely for the best that I did not go along. I would have certainly put his back up.”

Emma huffed out a laugh. “I think you are correct.”

His expression turning grave once more, Captain Jones said, “But I shall make sure this does not happen again.”

Sleep was a long time coming for Emma that night. Her thoughts about the evening were scattered and not uniformly pleasant. She felt a happy glow in her heart when she recalled how handsome Captain Jones had looked in his outfit and how delightful it had been to be twirled about in his arms. She had not been able to muster up a single jot of interest in any of the young men who had sought her attention through the course of the ball. The only one whose attention she craved was that of the captain’s and she was tolerably convinced that her feelings were not merely the effect of the excitement of the evening. His looks and words of admiration had thrilled her, as had his gentle encouragement when he had gracefully led her through the steps of the waltz. She felt a pleasant warmth when she remembered their proximity and was certain that other men would be tiresome disappointments as dance partners from now on.

His asking her to a second dance had led her to believe that he would begin paying his addresses more openly now, but his subsequent turn of mood had thrown a seed of doubt in her mind. It was not surprising that Sir Arthur’s heavy-handed imposition of his magisterial authority had jarred on the captain. Perhaps that would delay the return of his attentions. She could ask Ingrid to invite the captain to dinner soon, but then, he would inquire about her pianoforte again, and Emma did not want to keep lying to him. Whatever discussion he and Sir Arthur might have over the latter’s encroachment on the Abbey grounds, she did not want her pianoforte to feature in it. She had given her word that she would not involve anyone else in the matter, and she was determined to stick to it, no matter how high-handed Sir Arthur had been over the issue. Unable to resolve on anything, Emma finally drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning, her dreams full of waltzes and pianofortes.

***

Emma and Mary Margaret returned home from a morning walk about a week from the ball, when Ingrid met them at the door with an air of suppressed excitement.

“What is it, Cousin Ingrid?” asked Emma.

“Come into the drawing room. There is a surprise waiting for you, Emma,” Ingrid replied.

Emma eagerly opened the drawing room door and stepped inside, followed by Mary Margaret and Ingrid. She stopped short at the sight that met her eyes. There, in its old place, was her beloved pianoforte. She rushed forward to touch the instrument and make sure her eyes were not deceiving her.

“How is this possible?” Emma turned an astonished eye at Ingrid.

Ingrid held out a note. “This is from Sir Arthur. It came with the instrument.”

Emma quickly tore open the seal. It read: 

_Dear Miss Emma,_

_Do not fear that our bargain is null and void. Our agreement still stands. I shall not take any adverse action against the boy—unless he gets caught in wrongdoing again, of course._

_Sincere regards,_

_Arthur Garrigan._

Emma flipped the note over, but there was nothing written on the back. “This does not explain anything,” she said, handing the note to Mary Margaret. “Did you have anything to do with this, cousin?”

“I assure you, I do not,” said Ingrid, raising both hands.

“Perhaps Sir Arthur’s had a change of heart,” Mary Margaret suggested. “He may have realized how petty he had been in taking your pianoforte and decided to make amends.”

Emma hummed dubiously. “That doesn’t sound like him,” she said, sitting down at her pianoforte and playing a few bars. It had to be Captain Jones’s doing. But then, how did he come to know that her pianoforte was in Sir Arthur’s keeping? Servant gossip? Sir Arthur himself would never have revealed it. Emma felt troubled at the idea of the captain contriving the return of her pianoforte, especially if it led to greater friction between him and Sir Arthur on her account.

David and Mary Margaret left early the next day to make poor visits in the parish. Emma, who still had not come to any satisfactory conclusion about the mysterious return of her pianoforte, went for a walk some time later. She stopped at the parsonage on her way back to check if her sister and David had returned from their errand. Seeing David’s gig in the stable-yard, she went in.

“Emma, I think I know how you got your pianoforte back,” Mary Margaret declared the minute Emma stepped inside the parlor. Setting down the book she had been reading, Mary Margaret patted the space next to her on the sofa. David, who had been writing at his desk, stopped and turned to watch the proceedings.

“You think you know?” asked Emma, sitting down. “Did you meet Sir Arthur this morning?”

“We didn’t exactly meet him,” said Mary Margaret, glancing at David.

“Our errand took us near the grounds of Pendraig Castle.” David picked up the narrative thread. “There was a hunt in progress, and we stopped for it to pass.”

Emma glanced between the two. “Well?”

“Emma,” said Mary Margaret with a rush. “Sir Arthur was riding Captain Jones’s stallion, Bill.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain of it.” Mary Margaret made an emphatic gesture. “It wouldn’t be easy to mistake a different horse for such a fine animal.”

Emma pressed a hand to her chest.

“But does it follow that the beast changing hands had anything to do with the return of Emma’s pianoforte?” David asked, a little doubtfully.

“Yes,” replied both sisters at once, looking incredulous at his question.

“Alright, alright.” David raised both hands. “And before you say anything, Mary Margaret, I know Captain Jones is a good man.”

“You’ve come around to him, have you?” Mary Margaret teased.

David grinned. “I suppose I have.”

Emma abruptly stood up, ignoring the exchange between the other two. “I need to find the captain.”

“What, now?” asked David.

“Yes.”

David looked at Mary Margaret. She was smiling. With a put-upon sigh, David rose. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, thank you, David,” said Emma, moving to the door.

“But what if he’s not at home?” David started forward.

Emma rolled her eyes. “I promise I’ll come straight back.”

Mary Margaret gently held David back. “I’m sure they’ll be able to talk more freely without others hovering, David.”

He glanced between the two sisters and reddened. “Of course.”

Mary Margaret smiled at her sister, “Go, find the captain.”

Too agitated to return her sister’s smile, Emma only nodded.

***

Emma found Captain Jones sitting on the shore of the fish pond, head bent, sketching. He had taken off his coat and the sleeve of his white shirt billowed out with a gust of wind. He stopped to brush a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes. The sight of him looking so unaffectedly handsome at such a casual setting made Emma breathless and she almost forgot her errand for a moment. 

Hearing her footfall, Captain Jones turned and exclaimed in surprise. Taking in her agitated air, he rose quickly, and dropping his sketchpad and pencil on the ground, reached her in two strides. Emma suddenly felt nervous and had half a mind to run away without giving any explanations. What had she been thinking, rushing here like a silly schoolgirl?

“Is anything wrong, Miss Emma?” he asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

“My pianoforte,” began Emma, taking her courage in her hands and plunging into her question. “It was your doing, was it not? Its return.”

A look of caution came over his features. “I’m not sure what you are referring to, Miss Emma.”

Emma laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Please. I want to know. You traded Bill for my pianoforte?”

Captain Jones looked at Emma searchingly for a few moments, and nodded his head at last. “Aye. I know how much that instrument means to you.”

“How did you know that Sir Arthur had my pianoforte?”

A look of amusement crept into his eyes. “Believe it or not, Miss Emma, I’m quite perceptive. Your pianoforte was missing, and when I learned that you had talked Sir Arthur into releasing the woodcutter’s boy, I put two and two together. Sir Arthur is the kind of man who always exacts a cost in return for his favors.” He paused. “By the same token, how did _you_ learn of the exchange?”

“Mary Margaret happened across Sir Arthur this morning near Pendraig Castle—he was out on a hunt,” said Emma. “She recognized Bill at once. And then, we suspected the truth…”

“Sir Arthur gave me his word that he would not take Bill outside his grounds for the next few months.” Captain Jones chuckled softly. “‘The best-laid schemes’ etc..”

“But the horse was your brother’s…” said Emma, helplessly. “What if Sir Arthur doesn’t take good care of him?”

“You do not have to worry, Miss Emma,” the captain replied, in a softened tone. “Sir Arthur has a prize broodmare and he’s coveted my stallion for a long time to breed a new line of horses. I daresay Bill will fare better at Pendraig Castle than he has with me.”

Emma realized that he was trying to lighten the nature of his generous sacrifice. She knew how incredibly difficult it was to give up something so precious and meaningful. She had only done it to save a boy from a terrible fate. Captain Jones had no such urgent impetus when it was only a question of her happiness. Almost afraid to hope, Emma asked breathlessly, “Why did you do it?”

Captain Jones cocked his head, looking almost disappointed that she would ask such a thing. “Don’t you know, Miss Emma?” he said softly.

On shaky legs, Emma stepped forward and placing both her hands on the captain’s shoulders, rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. For a moment, Captain Jones did not move. Then, his arms encircled her waist and he kissed her tenderly. A flower of warmth and happiness unfurled in Emma’s chest and inundated her senses. A single tear rolled down her cheek, unheeded. After a moment, she stopped to draw a breath and raised her eyes to the captain’s face. He raised a trembling hand to her cheek and caressed it gently. The mixture of hope and unbridled joy in his brilliant blue eyes overwhelmed her with their intensity.

“Was that a token of your gratitude, Miss Emma?”

“Is that what you think it is, Captain?” she replied, with a cheeky smile. 

He gave a breathy laugh and there was a happy twinkle in his eyes. “My beautiful, beloved Swan,” he said, and pressed her closer. He kissed her again, more passionately this time, but still with tenderness. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to a park bench and sat down with her on his lap. After an interlude of tender kisses and happy smiles, they sat in silence for a while, their foreheads touching.

Emma caressed the light gingery scruff on his cheek with the back of her hand. Captain Jones tilted his head in response. “Why did you call me ‘swan’?”

Captain Jones smiled. “Because you are like one,” he placed a chaste kiss on her lips, “in your graceful person,” he kissed one cheek, “and the elegance of your dancing,” and he kissed the other. Emma blushed and buried her face in his neck. He placed a hand under her chin and gently pulled her up to face him. “But most of all, in the manner you passionately defend those who are helpless to do it—just like a swan with her cygnets.”

Emma blushed at his praise, but felt too shy to say a single word in response. So, she kissed him again.

After another pause, Captain Jones broke the silence with, “After I lost my brother and Milah, I let my bitterness consume me. I daresay I became more black-hearted than some of the pirates I hunted in the Caribbean.” He paused and took her hand in his. Emma gently rubbed her thumb over his hand, silently encouraging him to continue. “Love had only brought me pain, and I clung to that pain. I never thought I would be capable of moving past all that, and find love again, until I met you.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “I love you, Emma.”

Emma’s eyes stung with tears of joy. This was the kind of love she had yearned for. That chord of true understanding and empathy she had dreamed of. “My parents were warm-hearted, generous people, and they loved each other very much. I thought I would find the same kind of love in Neal Cassidy. When he broke my heart, I was afraid to trust anyone—to trust you.” Captain Jones kissed her hand once more. She continued, “But you broke down my fears. You showed me that you are kind and large-hearted. I know you will not let me down. I love you, Killian.”

Taking both her hands in his, he looked at her solemnly. “I don’t intend to let you down.”

Emma smiled tenderly. “I know.”

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and trailed his finger down her cheek and chucked it underneath her chin. Adoration and desire were blended in his gaze. He said, “My lovely Swan, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Emma grinned. “Yes, Killian. I will.” And she kissed him once more.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts. Only the epilog left now.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, we have reached the end of the story, but I’m not ready to say goodbye. At the same time, I’m excited to share the epilogue with you all. Thanks to each and every person who has left kudos and commented on this story. I also want to reiterate my thanks to the admin and mods of the @captainswanbigbang for organizing the event. I would never have finished this story if not for the Big Bang. My betas @thegladelf and @mryddinwilt deserve all the credit for helping me elevate this fic. And last, but not least, all my gratitude to @captainswanandclintasha for all the detailed pic-sets and art she made for this story. Check-out the beautiful edit by @captainswanandclintasha for Chapter 15 on tumblr. And please don't forget to check out the other stories from this year’s Big Bang, if you haven’t already. I know I have a lot of catching up to do!

**Epilogue**

Emma and Mary Margaret exchanged the name of Blanchard for that of Jones and Spencer respectively in a double-wedding ceremony in September, Revered Hopper officiating. Lady Spencer gave her blessing to the union of her stepson with Mary Margaret with more alacrity than either of them had anticipated, and with great generosity, settled twelve thousand pounds on David. To be sure, she had at first renewed her attempts to get David interested in Miss Midas, but she gave up on realizing that David’s new-found firmness of purpose was not a passing phase. Miss Abigail Midas, far from being heartbroken that neither David nor Walsh Spencer had wanted to marry her, eloped with the son of her father’s steward soon after.

Lady Spencer and Walsh reconciled after a proper period of groveling from his wife. Walsh and Kelly were so extravagant in their “improvements” of Spencer Hall in the first year of their married life, especially with the added purchase of several exotic birds and animals to populate the park, that Lady Spencer was obliged to step in and discharge their debts. A period of forced retrenchment followed, with Walsh and Kelly moving in with her ladyship in London and testing the maternal bond further. Mrs. Kelly Spencer’s petty satisfaction from knowing that her income was improved by having exchanged the elder brother for the younger was additionally marred when David acquired the Storybrooke living upon the retirement of Reverend Hopper some years later. She consoled herself, however, with the knowledge that she did not have to contend with the toils of parish duties and farm management.

Regina was more or less resigned to David and Mary Margaret’s union, though she could never quite forgive Mary Margaret for falling in love with her stepbrother while under her roof. As for Emma, her great increase in wealth and status was a constant subject of irritation to Regina, especially given her husband’s satisfaction over it. Robin was delighted with Emma’s marriage to Captain Jones. Even if he had fixed on the wrong sister to matchmake, he could not help taking some credit for promoting the match by his inclusion of the captain in several of their London engagements.

Robin’s satisfaction in the event was eclipsed by that of Mrs. Lucas, who, perhaps, had greater justification in taking some credit for bringing Emma and the captain together. To add to her overall happiness, the Whales soon purchased an estate in Misthaven, and split their time between London and the country from then on. It is to be hoped that the kindly old matron will be around to plan matches between her own great-grandchildren and the children of the Joneses and the Spencers.

Ingrid could not be happier that her cousins, whom she had grown to love very much, remained in Misthaven after their marriages. Emma and Mary Margaret continued to turn to their cousin for advice and counsel, and on Gerda’s death the following year, Ingrid acquired two young nieces—Elsa and Anna—to get to know and make much of. 

1816 turned out to be a bad year for harvest, with incessant rains, gales and unseasonal frost lasting all through the summer. Killian and Emma took leadership in administering poor relief to those hard hit by the weather. They had several willing helpers among their family and friends, including David and Mary Margaret, Mrs. Lucas, and the Whales. Michael Zimmer was given a permanent position at Misthaven Abbey, and Emma continued to take personal interest in the education and upbringing of Ava and Nicholas.

The severity of the following two winters and the inability of many farmers to pay rent served as an unwitting test of the moral character of the landed gentry in many counties across the kingdom. Sir Arthur was among those unwilling to offer much abatement, and thereby lost much of his popularity and support in the neighborhood. That, combined with the death of his wife a few years later, pushed him into giving up his magisterial position. He thereafter retired from public life and focused on breeding horses.

Wendy Jones married an enterprising industrialist from America and settled down to a peaceful life across the Atlantic. Killian and Emma took in her son, Henry, and brought him up as their own child, together with the girl and boy they were blessed with. It is to be hoped that little Liam will grow up to be as loving and generous as his parents and join with his father in breaking the entail over Misthaven Abbey for better provision of his siblings.

Neal Cassidy was mortified on hearing of Emma’s marriage to Captain Jones. Even though it was an event he had been expecting, it did not make it easier to bear and he fell back into gaming to overcome his disappointment. That he did not fritter away his wife’s wealth was solely on account of the ironclad nature of her marriage settlements. He attempted to make use of his stepmother’s good offices in becoming a part of his son’s life. For, Belle, who tended to be soft-hearted, forgave her stepson on observing his desire to make amends to the child. Captain Jones was initially adamant in refusing him any contact with Henry. However, Emma, whose own happiness had softened her anger and disgust at Neal, gently persuaded her husband to let Henry spend some time each year in the company of his natural father. When Neal died some years later, he bequeathed his Somersetshire estate to Henry.

Mr. Scarlett stayed on as curate in Misthaven and assisted David in his parish duties, which was invaluable when the Storybrooke parish was added to David’s purview. He and Belle made a match of it, much to the satisfaction of their mutual friends.

After returning from a mission that took him to sea for several months, Killian resigned his commission from the navy, not wishing to miss any more time with his growing family. But he did not retire from public service. He took on the mantle of the justice of peace from Sir Arthur, and played an active part in the reformation of the punitive laws governing capital punishment.

***

_A warm spring morning in 1822._

Emma sat at her pianoforte, playing the same sonata that had first directed her husband’s attention to her all those years ago. As she sang, a second, tenor voice joined her soprano. Killian Jones slid into the seat beside her and they completed the song as a duet.

“Good morning, my love,” said Emma, and pressed a kiss on her husband’s lips.

“Mmm...” responded Killian, wrapping himself around his wife in a warm embrace.

“You need to get ready for church, Killian,” admonished Emma.

“Five more minutes, Swan” mumbled Killian, tightening his embrace.

“You sound just like Eva,” Emma laughed into her husband’s shoulder.

As if on cue, the door opened, and in tumbled three children, ranging in ages from six to two, followed by their hassled nursery maid, Miss Bell.

_“Mama! Papa!”_ yelled the sweet, shrill voices, demanding the attention of their parents, which Emma and Killian willingly gave. Their daughter, who was now four years old, scrambled up to sit on her mother’s lap and started pressing some keys.

“Like this, Eva-love,” said Emma, and directed her daughter’s fingers.

After another hour of wrangling, the Jones family were safely packed into the carriage and driven to church. At the church premises, the Joneses were greeted by David in his clerical garb and Mary Margaret. The Spencers’ three little ones ran up to join their cousins on catching sight of them.

“Where is Cousin Ingrid?” Emma asked Mary Margaret.

“She’s with Elsa and Anna in the anteroom. They’re waiting for us to join them,” Mary Margaret replied.

The sisters smiled at each other and left in search of the bride. Killian and David joined Admiral Nemo, who stood by the altar, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Music began to play, and Ingrid White walked in through the door, followed by her four bridesmaids—Emma, Mary Margaret, Elsa, and Anna. When they reached the altar, Mary Margaret and Emma lifted the veil covering Ingrid’s face and placed her hand in Admiral Nemo’s.

“‘Dearly beloved’,” began David, reading from the Book of Common Prayer, “‘we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee…’.”

After the bride and groom had exchanged their vows and rings, and David had pronounced them Man and Wife, Nemo and Ingrid drove off in their carriage to the _“huzzahs”_ and cheers of their family and friends.

Emma joined Mary Margaret at the church door. “Kent seems too far away,” she said wistfully.

Her sister agreed with her, adding, “They’ll be back with us at Christmas. And, perhaps we can persuade the admiral to look into country estates around Devonshire.”

Emma smiled. After a pause, she said, “Misthaven seems more like home than Locksley now. Is that wrong?”

Mary Margaret thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I do not think so. I feel the same way. I think it’s because Mama and Papa were gone when we left Locksley.”

“And living with Robin and Regina wasn’t any too comfortable,” finished Emma, giving a sideways smile.

The sisters stood in silence for some moments thinking back to the time when they had just lost their parents and Ingrid had invited them to Misthaven. They had come a long way since then. They had faced heartbreak and pain, to be sure, but they had also found love, family, and lasting friendships. Not the least of their blessings, perhaps, was that the sisters lived within a mile of each other and were closer than ever.

Killian came up to his wife and twined his hand with hers. “Ready to go home, love?”

Emma smiled up at him. “Yes. We’re only waiting for David to finish up.”

“Good,” replied Killian and returned Emma’s smile.

Soon, the Joneses and the Spencers got into their respective carriages and made their way to Misthaven Abbey to spend the rest of the day as they had done many times before—in the cheerful company of the people they loved.

**FINIS**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this story! I loved sharing it with you all.


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